I Love You, Now What?
by LeaderOfTheRevolution
Summary: He loves her, she loves him...but why is everything still so difficult? Emma needs to face the consequences of surviving the Killing Curse...while surviving Blaise, Pansy, and her agitating boyfriend. DracoxOC sequel to Love Me or Hate Me. COMPLETE!
1. Insanity Tastes Like Vanilla

A/N: a lot of people requested a sequel, and i happen to really like Emma Knight, so here it is!

so, it might be slightly difficult for you as a reader if you are starting with this story.

if i were you, i would read Love Me or Hate Me, so you understand Draco and Emma's relationship and the things Emma had to face.

^_^ here you go!

fyi, i just edited this. i wanted to change her Patronus at the last minute, haha.

* * *

Insanity Tastes Like Vanilla

Emma Knight woke up next to a blonde-haired boy, and promptly fell out of bed.

"Ow!" She rubbed her head gingerly. "If I get one more bruise, it's going to look like you're abusing me."

Laughing, Draco Malfoy rolled onto his side and looked down at his girlfriend, who, despite looking very peeved, was adorably rumpled. He sat up, the covers slipping off of his shirtless chest.

_If he's not wearing pants, I'm screaming rape,_ she told herself, watching him.

He was indeed wearing pants, and she was fully clothed, as was always the case; once they'd begun sharing a bed, Emma had set ground rules. One of them being that lower regions must always be clothed. Always. He walked around to the other wide of the bed, holding out his hand.

"No one would believe I abuse you, baby," he said, smiling as he pulled her to her feet. "They know I'm too hopelessly in love."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Your words say 'love'. Your actions say 'hate'." He raised an eyebrow, and she lifted the hem of her shirt slightly. There, etched on her skin, was a small jagged scar.

Draco burst out laughing. "You're still upset about _that_? So it was my first time using Sectumsempra. I can't believe you're holding it against me. It's been weeks!"

"It has not been _weeks_," she protested. "It's been _a _week."

"Regardless. Potter's first time using Sectumsempra ended in me laying in a pool of my own blood on a bathroom floor. Snape had to sew me up. I think you should give me a little credit."

Scowling, Emma threw a pillow at him. He caught it, and said, "Real mature, Knight."

Summer had started a little less than ten days ago. Sometimes, Emma still found it hard to wrap her mind around the fact that she was finished at Hogwarts. Okay, technically she hadn't finished her education--she'd left at the end of her sixth year and hadn't bothered to return. But anyway, on top of that, she was spending the summer at Malfoy Manor with her boyfriend. She'd contacted her grandfather, told him she was moving out. He hadn't really cared; she'd disappeared for a year, not bothering to try and keep contact. As far as he was concerned, she was dead.

If someone had told her two years ago that she would fall in love with her enemy, live through a Killing Curse, and end up living for two months under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy, she would have had them committed to St. Mungo's. Draco gave her a small kiss, murmured something she didn't quite catch about breakfast, and entered the bathroom with a pile of clothes in hand. Emma smiled after him. She dressed herself quickly, careful to charm her arm so her Dark Mark couldn't be seen, and paused to look for a moment at the navy leather-bound diary she'd hidden in the top drawer of the dresser.

She opened it, reading the words on the inside cover. "For your sixth year at Hogwarts." Her father's handwriting swirled across the page, the ink slightly faded. He'd bought seven such journals, each in a different color, the year she turned ten. She'd thought at first it was an apology for missing her actual birthday, but then she realized it was so she could have a diary a year to document her school life. Underneath the navy blue sat the prettiest of all seven, and the only one that remained completely blank. It was silver, with black filigree sloping on the cover in an intricate E. The inside cover didn't say "For your seventh year." She supposed her father knew that the same inscription would get boring and repetitive. No, it said "Live your life, Em." She had never understood the significance, but it made her smile all the same. She closed the drawer, bounding down the stairs of the manor and practically skipping into the kitchen.

The Malfoy kitchen was surprisingly cozy, considering the spawn of the devil (Lucius) lived here. Of course, on this side of the manor, they weren't in the formal kitchen, which was a much larger room. This kitchen was just off from the side door of the house, with nothing separating it from a small living room with a fireplace and armchairs. A sliding glass door led out onto a small porch, connected to the huge swimming pool in the back. The kitchen was basic, a stove and refrigerator and a few counters and cabinets. It occurred to Emma that possibly the only reason this kitchen was here was for Mrs. Malfoy. Lucius certainly wouldn't have wanted this in his grand house.

Narcissa Malfoy gave her a smile. "Morning, dear."

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," she sang.

Draco's mother had warmed immediately to the young girl, from the moment that she and Lucius had found Draco in the courtyard of Hogwarts, holding Emma in his arms. Draco explained how Emma had bravely stepped in front of the Killing Curse meant for him, strengthening Narcissa's like for her. Lucius had, at first, threatened to "kill her properly", only acquiescing when both his son and his wife immediately turned their wands on him.

Draco, who was following behind her on the stairs, said, "Your hair's really messy, Emma."

She sighed. "I know, I know."

She tried in vain to flatten the insufferable poof that her hair had become. After a particularly destructive sixth year--involving the Cruciatus Curse, breaking into Azkaban, the death of her father, the Dark Mark, and more or less witnessing the death of Dumbledore--she had dyed it brown and streaked it with green and cut a good deal of it off. It now stood in about five different directions, giving new meaning to the term "bed-head".

Narcissa winced. "Do you...like your hair like that? That color?"

Emma grumbled and said, "No, not really. It looks like grass and mud. I meant for it to be black. But I was always terrible at Transfiguration, nearly failed my O.W.L.--"

Draco's mother raised her wand. "What would you like? Blonde like your mother? Black like your father?"

"I like it dark," Draco protested.

Ignoring him, Narcissa flicked her wand. The brown and green faded, leaving Emma's hair the shimmering golden blonde it had always been. After a moment of contemplation, and upon seeing her son's crestfallen face, Narcissa waved her wand again, and several black streaks appeared in the seventeen-year-old's hair. She looked into the mirror hanging in the stairway and squealed excitedly.

"Your father may not love it," Narcissa weakly told her son.

"Oh, who cares what Lucius thinks?" Emma snapped. She clapped her hand over her mouth, looking horrified. "Sorry! Habit!"

"You're apologizing for snapping about my father?" Draco stared at her, wide-eyed. "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?"

Emma shrugged. "Well, he's your father, even if he is a damn bastard," she grumbled. "And I need to get on his good side so he won't try to hex me every time you're not around..."

"Language, dear," said Narcissa reproachfully.

"Sorry!" Emma repeated, her face coloring.

"Anyway, Lucius won't be back for another month, so you needn't worry about him just yet."

Draco winked at his girlfriend even as his mother continued, "Oh! Blaise and that Parkinson girl are coming over today."

"Really?" asked Draco, furrowing his brow. "Why?"

"They're going to help you watch the house for a few weeks while I meet your father in Scotland." Narcissa waved her wand again, and a suspended silver knife buttered the last piece of a large stack of toast. "Emma, would you like tea?"

"Actually, I'm more of a coffee girl." Emma winced apologetically.

"That's quite alright, I'm sure I can find some coffee."

Emma thanked her, watching as an the Malfoy's owl flew gently in through the open kitchen window. The owl dropped the mail on the counter in front of her, then flew to Draco's arm, where it was stroked softly by Draco's long fingers. Emma unwrapped the large bundle of letters and magazines wrapped around the newest issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

"Cream and sugar?" asked Narcissa. She frowned when Emma didn't respond. "Dear?"

* * *

Emma's POV

I think my heart might possibly have stopped. There, on the counter, were four letters all addressed to me.

Draco came over--the owl had vanished--and looked over my shoulder. "Oh, a new Quidditch magazine," he said with a grin. "And Mum, here's that gossip paper you love so much."

He picked up the two magazines and the _Daily Prophet_ and took them into the other room, sitting on a chair with his Quidditch magazine.

Slowly, I lifted one of the letters. It had a Ministry stamp in the corner. My hands trembled as I opened it.

_Dear Miss Knight,_

_I apologize for the lateness in my writing, but as you must be aware, the wizarding world is still in a bit of turmoil. It is my understanding that you are to be spending the summer at the Malfoy residence. I do hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I would like to set up a meeting sometime soon; there are things that, I am told, are necessary we discuss. As you did not finish your Hogwarts education, your choice of future careers is severely limited. Headmistress McGonagall, however, has personally vouched for you, so the Ministry is willing to let that slide. I also have a friend of yours here at the Ministry who has saved a spot for you at the Auror Training Academy. Please respond promptly.  
_

_Yours,_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister of Magic_

My eyes widened. Only one person knew of my desire to become an Auror. Had Harry really pulled strings for me at the Ministry? My lips pulled back in a smile, and I picked up the next letter in the pile. I recognized the handwriting at once. _Harry!_

I could remember the last time I'd seen Harry. The Malfoys and I had gone back to the Great Hall after Voldemort's death. Harry'd grown taller, his dark hair lengthening and becoming more mussed than before. There was a smudge of dirt on his face, and a few stray pieces of grass clung to his clothes, but the look on his face was one of a triumphant leader. He stood with the Weasley family as they mourned over the bodies of Tonks and Lupin and Fred. Ron and Hermoine were embracing, but they broke apart when Harry tapped them on the shoulder. He had gestured over at me, and suddenly all three were grinning. I had almost cried; they weren't mad at me for leaving. They were just happy I'd been back.

_Emma,_

_How are you? Ron is worried for your sanity; he heard that you were staying with Malfoy all summer. At least try to visit us at some point, alright? You owe us an explanation for the disappearing act you pulled at the end of sixth year. Oh, and have you received a letter from Kingsley yet? Just wondering._

My smile grew. So he_ had_ pulled some strings. _God, Harry, you're my hero._

_Anyway, back to business. Apparently Tonks left you something in her will. I'm still a little fuzzy as to how exactly she knew you, but that doesn't really matter. The Ministry mailed it to me along with what the Weasely's and I were left, so I'm sending it with this letter. It's still wrapped, I haven't touched it. Now you have a reason to write back; I'm curious to see what it is._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S. If you can, meet Ron, Hermoine, Ginny and I at George Weasley's joke shop in Diagon Alley on the 18th._

"Emma?"

I turned my head. "Oh, I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. Cream, please."

She set my coffee cup next to me on the counter. "Did you get a letter?"

"Four of them, actually," I said, delving into the third. _Nymphadora Tonks left me something?_

The sting of her death was still fresh; she had been, after all, the closest thing I had to a friend after I left Hogwarts. She'd kept me informed of the goings on, told me about the Order being summoned to Hogwarts for battle. At some point, we'd grown close. To be mentioned in her will, though...

The next letter began:

_To Miss Emma Knight,_

_I hope you're doing well. I realize the last few years may have been hard for you, and, while I do not support your decision to drop out of school, I wish you the best of luck. I didn't see you at Severus Snape's funeral last weekend. I hope you have been informed of his true intentions, but in case you haven't, I shall reveal them to you._

I read the words slowly, hungrily. Severus was always Dumbledore's man; everything that had happened had been planned, the letter explained. Tears rushed to my eyes as I remembered everything I had called him, everything I had accused him of. I hadn't even attended the man's funeral.

"Emma, what's wrong?" said Draco, suddenly alerted to my crying.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head. "I'm just a bitch, is all."

_"You bastard!" _How many times had I screamed that at him, when he hadn't even deserved it?

"Why do you say that?"

Wordlessly, I handed him the letter and took a sip of coffee. Reaching over, I plucked a piece of toast from the plate in the middle of the counter, nibbling on it. For five years, I was one of his favorite students. He'd taught me in private lessons, teaching me complicated potions and new spells, and trained me into becoming a full-fledged Animagus. Then everything had exploded. He'd stopped me from escaping when I had been abducted by Malfoy and Voldemort. He'd stood back and watched as Voldemort had given me a freaky Dark Mark that, as Draco told me later, had had the possibility to kill me in a split second. He'd killed Dumbledore. I hadn't looked between the lines. I'd resented him with every fiber of my being. And then he'd been killed.

Draco's mouth suddenly dropped. "Did you read the rest of this?" he asked, waving the letter at me.

I frowned. "No, why?"

"The letter's from McGonagall!" Draco exclaimed. "Snape left you something in his will!"

"What?!" I snatched the letter from him, scanning the words quickly. "Holy hell! Snape mentioned me in his freaking _will_! When did he even _write_ his will?"

He glanced at the other two opened letters. "What are those two about?"

"Oh, Harry wants me to visit, I'm meeting them in Diagon Alley on the 18th, that's this weekend I think..." My eyes strayed to the fourth and final letter.

"What about this one?" Draco pointed to the one from Kingsley.

"Ministry scolding me about my education," I said, shrugging. I folded the letter up, shoved it back in the envelope. Why I wasn't telling him about Kingsley's offer to let me be an Auror, I didn't know.

The final letter was also from Kingsley. He had written an apology, babbled about protocol--

My eyes stuck on one line.

_As stated in Flynn Sterling's will, his every belonging, including house and property, goes to you, his daughter, Emmie Sterling._

I must have been swaying, because Draco gripped my arm and the world stilled.

"My dad," I choked out. "They finally dug into my dad's will." I looked into Draco's worried, blue-grey eyes. "I own everything."

* * *

Draco's POV

I had Emma sit in a chair with breakfast while I went outside to find the packages that had supposedly been delivered. Three letters regarding wills in one day? My mind was racing. I didn't doubt that Emma wanted to go see her house, the house she'd grown up in, the house she now owned. I was a little worried about her emotional stability; she'd probably burst into tears the second she even saw Sterling Manor. And I was _a lot_ worried about that letter she'd gotten from the Ministry. If it was no big deal, why did she hide it from me? I was probably overreacting, but I wanted her to trust me.

Just outside the door were two small packages, both addressed to Emma. I wondered briefly how so many people knew she was staying with me this summer. Then, my attention was diverted elsewhere.

"Draco!" squealed a high-pitched voice. I kept myself from visibly flinching as Pansy threw herself at me. Blaise stood a little ways back, hands in pockets, smirking as always.

"Hey, Malfoy," he said. "Where's Knight?"

"Inside," I replied, detaching myself from Pansy, who was suddenly scowling.

"That stupid Ravenclaw's here?" she asked, hands poised on her hips.

I didn't respond. "Breakfast is on the counter in the kitchen." I lifted my wand. The packages floated into the air, gliding gently into the front room. The two followed behind me, setting their luggage down. Emma walked in, smiling nervously.

"Wonder what I got," she said uneasily. She saw Blaise and Pansy and immediately glowered, taking in their appearance. "Whore," she whispered, glancing poisonously at the super-short skirt Pansy wore.

Blaise eyed the packages with suspicion.

"I was mentioned in wills," added Emma by way of explanation. She leaned down and opened the first package. There were three bundles, wrapped in brown paper. "This is the one from Snape."

"Snape? Didn't he die?" asked Pansy stupidly.

"Well, technically it's from McGonagall, but it's the item Snape set aside for me in his will." She closed her mouth suddenly, as if wondering why she was explaining anything to Pansy.

Frowning, Blaise said, "Snape left you something? _You?_"

"Yeah, I'm a little confused at his choice, too," she snapped. She gave me a look to say, Can't you get them to go away?

I flinched, shaking my head a little. Emma sighed.

She unwrapped out a small corked bottle, holding it up to the light. She snorted suddenly.

"What?" I asked.

"Ironic, isn't it?" she murmured. "After everything he did, the man gives me a bottle of the Draught of Peace."

* * *

Emma's POV

I would have preferred not to open the packages in front of Blaise and that idiot Pansy, but I didn't have much of a choice now. There was more in the box, and I gently set the potion back. The next object I pulled out was a medallion on a black ribbon. Behind me, Draco frowned.

"What the..." he said. "Snape left you a Metamorph-Medal?"

"A what?" I stared at the medallion, turning it over in my hand. One side had an engraved S, the other side a pattern of twisting ivy.

"They're scams. The Ministry collected all of them years ago. They're supposed to help the wearer change appearance at any time, but they just turned people orange," Draco explained.

"How do you know that's what this is?" I rubbed my thumb over the metal. It felt strangely hot to the touch. The S was probably for his last name or his first. _Or for Sterling_.

"You see how the ivy's moving?" I turned it over, peered at it carefully. "That means it's enchanted."

I shrugged. "Maybe it's just enchanted to make the ivy move."

I reached into the box a third time, grabbed a small, square mirror. It was cracked.

"He left you a cracked mirror?" scoffed Blaise.

_Will you all stop asking me that question?! He left you this? He left you that? Well obviously he did!_

"It doesn't even show reflections," Pansy jeered.

I looked into it carefully. There was a tall, blurry figure in the mirror. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "It's a Foe-Glass."

"What?" Zabini looked into it, his eyes narrowed.

"Foe-Glass. It's spelled to show a person's approaching enemies. I thought they'd all been destroyed."

"So, that little mirror is spelled to show you where your enemies are?"

"Not where they are, just _who_ they are. The closer they are to you, the clearer the image."

Blaise snorted loudly. "Lot of good that does you."

_Snape had enchanted this specifically for me? Why go to so much trouble?_

"That's it," I said, pulling the box from Harry closer. "This is what Harry sent. It's from Tonks's will."

"Tonks?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Your cousin. Nymphadora Tonks." I opened the box carefully. There was only one wrapped bundle. I ripped the paper off and my eyes lit up. "Oh! A Time-Turner!"

"What? I thought Potter destroyed them all on his little rampage through the Ministry in our fifth year," Blaise peered over my shoulder to get a good look at it.

_Evidently not, you idiot._

I held it away from him, glaring. "Back off, Zabini." I looked around suddenly. "Hey, where's Parkinson?"

The two boys shrugged. I walked into the kitchen to make sure she hadn't pried through any of my letters. Pansy was there, stuffing her face with the scrambled eggs Mrs. Malfoy had made. _She eats faster than Ron_. She took a gulp out of a filled coffee cup sitting on the counter. There were two other such cups. Mrs. Malfoy, however, had mysteriously vanished. Pansy choked suddenly.

"What is that?" she said, holding her cup out at arm's length.

"Coffee," I responded blandly.

"_Coffee_? That's a Muggle drink!"

"You drink tea, don't you? Tea's a Muggle drink!" The volume of my voice was slowly rising. Pansy matched it.

"_Tea _is sophisticated! Coffee is...is..._American_!"

"Tea isn't _sophisticated_! It's so tasteless! It's basically colored water!"

"Coffee is liquefied _dirt_!" she countered.

"Is not!"

"That's what it tastes like!"

"That's because you're drinking it black, you idiot!" Behind me, I heard the boys entering to find out what all the yelling was for. I ignored them, whipping out my wand and flicking it in the direction of the creamer that rested on the counter. I directed it at Pansy, and the contents of the creamer bottle exploded onto the Slytherin girl. She spluttered unattractively.

"This is insanity!" snapped Pansy, slamming the cup on the counter and trying unsuccessfully to wipe off the liquid.

"Actually," I said with a smirk, "that's vanilla."

Blaise and Draco erupted into muffled bouts of laughter. Pansy, her face a brilliant shade of red, stalked up the stairs.

"You know you're a witch, right?" I called after her. "You can just use your wand to clean up."

From the swear words she threw at me, I guessed that thought hadn't occurred to her. I smiled, sipping my own coffee. Blaise came up behind me and slung an arm over my shoulder.

"So," he said, "how about you be a good hostess and show me up to my room?"

I scowled at him. "First, I think you're talking to the wrong hostess. Second, you do realize you're touching a _half-blood_, right?"

He winked. "You're the special kind of half-blood, Knight. After all, you are dating my best friend."

"Just go upstairs," I grumbled, shoving his arm away from me. When he was safely away, I rounded on my boyfriend. "Why did _they_ have to be the ones to show up? I'd rather have Voldemort come back to life than have those two babysitting us!"

"I'm not sure what my mom was thinking," Draco admitted sheepishly. "Pansy's barely been here ten minutes and you already fought with her--"

"She started it! Who doesn't like coffee? And worse yet, who _argues_ about coffee?" I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. "It's just so...Argh!"

I huffed agitatedly, folding my arms across my chest and facing away from him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered in my ear. "Mum thinks we need chaperoning."

"Has she even _met_ Pansy? She should know that if anyone needs to be kept an eye on, it's that chick." Draco nuzzled my neck, but I kept my face in a scowl. "These walls are paper-thin; if she and Blaise start going at it in the middle of the night, I'm going to hex them both."

"They'll have separate rooms."

"So? Unless we tie Pansy to her bed, she'll sneak over." My eyes widened as my mind formed a mental picture that I _really_ didn't need. "Wait, no, bad idea, then _he'll_ sneak over. No tying or chaining or...oh God, _ew_."

"Don't picture it," scolded Draco, an amused tinge to his voice.

"And wait a second, there's more rooms? I thought the reason I had to share a room with you was because there wasn't a spare!"

Draco pulled back a little, and I turned my head to look him in the eyes. "You don't like sharing a room with me?" He sounded hurt.

"You tricked me! You slimy--" I untangled myself.

"Hey, no name calling," he said, taking a step toward me. "If I had just asked, you would have gotten all embarrassed and started spouting off nonsense--"

"I don't 'spout nonsense'."

He gave me a pointed look. "You're too innocent for your own good sometimes, baby."

"Don't call me baby just because you think it'll soften me up," I snapped, angry because that was exactly what was happening. "And I'm not that innocent, remember?" I raised my left arm, allowing the Dark Mark to shimmer visibly.

His face hardened. "Put that down," he hissed, lowering my arm forcibly. "He may be gone, but you can still get in trouble for having that mark. The only reason _I'm_ not in jail right now is because of Potter." He winced as he spoke.

"Did you ever thank Harry for that?" I asked. _Finally, a change of subject._

"No," growled Draco. "I don't _thank_ people. Especially not Potter."

"You'll have an opportunity to this weekend."

"Huh? You can't expect me to go along with you when you meet them," he said incredulously. "You know how much the Trio hates me. That's walking into enemy territory! I'm not going!"

"It's not 'enemy territory', you drama queen."

"I'm not going."

"If you don't go," I said, "then I'm moving out of your room."

Draco stiffened. "You wouldn't."

I raised an eyebrow. He cursed under his breath and I grinned victoriously.

"I should at least get a kiss for that," he demanded. "Putting up with your PMS isn't the easiest thing in the world--"

I swatted his arm. "I'm not PMSing!" I pressed my lips to his for a split second. "There."

"Oh, no you don't." He pulled me back, kissing me deeply. His hand trailed down my spine, making me shiver. He tangled his fingers in my hair, holding me tightly, as if afraid I'd fade away if he loosened his grip even a little. I pulled away from his hungry mouth, but he retaliated by kissing down my jawline, caressing my neck.

"Draco," I whispered, albeit a little breathlessly. "What did I tell you about wanting to stay a virgin until after school?"

He chuckled, one hand slipping under the hem of my shirt. "In case you hadn't noticed, love, school is over."

"Ugh! Must you snog in the _kitchen_? People _eat_ here, ya know!"

Pansy stood on the stairs, a look of disgust on her pug face, Blaise behind her. She looked like she'd eaten something rotten; he was struggling not to laugh. My cheeks flamed, but Draco wasn't embarrassed. He simply seemed annoyed.

"It's my house," he said. "I can snog in whatever room I like."

Pansy gagged. "Just try not to do it in front of me."

"You're just jealous he's not snogging you," I muttered under my breath. I'd never like the word snog--

Having not heard me, she turned to Zabini for support, but he just grinned.

"Fee free to do it in front of me," he said cheerfully.

I rolled my eyes. "Speaking of doing it, if you go into her room," I said, "or vice versa," I glanced at Pansy, "then both of you will wake up missing parts of your body you just might need later on."

"I thought this was _Malfoy_ Manor," snapped Pansy.

"It doesn't matter to me whose manor it is." Blaise pushed past an indignant Pansy. "As if I'd ever sleep with that strung-up little--"

"Hey!" Pansy followed him as he walked down the hallway, their arguing voices slowly fading.

_This is going to be a peaceful summer,_ I thought sarcastically.

* * *

Draco's POV

From the look on Emma's face, I knew she wouldn't last long in the same house as those two. I took her hand.

"When do you want to go to Sterling Manor?" I asked gently.

She worked her jaw. "Now."

"What? Now?"

She let go of my hand, walked to the open kitchen window. "I'm not the greatest at Apparating, but if I transform I can be there within an hour."

"I'll go with you, I can Apparate us both there--"

"No."

I stepped back, feeling vaguely as I did when Granger had punched me those years ago. "What do you mean, no?"

"This is something I need to do alone, Draco."

"Like hell it is!" I grabbed her arm. "You need to stop thinking you can handle everything on your own!"

"I've been doing a damn good job in the years since Dad was taken," she snapped back.

"You didn't have anyone to lean on then, Emma. Now you have me."

"I'll be fine going alone."

"Look at me." Her eyes moved to mine obediently. "You cannot honestly say you're perfectly fine visiting that house alone."

"Honestly, I can. Trust me." She smiled softly.

"Trust? We're bringing trust into this now. How about this: I'll trust you when you trust me."

Her smile vanished. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," I snarled, immediately wishing I could take it back as she ripped her arm from my grasp.

"This is about the letter I wouldn't let you read?" she asked. "You're ridiculous! That's not about _trust_, Malfoy, that's about _privacy_!"

_She only calls me Malfoy when she's _really_ mad. Hell._

"If it was a big deal, I'd tell you! But obviously," she flung her arm wildly as if to punctuate her point, "you don't _trust me_ enough to think that!" She shook her head, laughing slightly. "You are unbelievable!"

She turned away from me, and a small white-and-gold owl flew out the kitchen window. I stared after her for a long time.

"Trouble in paradise?" asked Blaise's voice.

I looked over my shoulder numbly. Zabini leaned against the counter, a piece of toast with jam in one hand. He gestured out the window with it.

"She seemed quite ruffled." He chuckled at his own joke. I didn't say anything. He took a large bit of toast. "All I've ever seen you two do is snog and fight." I stayed silent while he chewed. "So, why aren't you chasing after her?"

"She can fly; I Apparate," I said finally. "I can't follow her unless I know where she's gone. I don't know where she's gone."

"Bullocks." I jumped at my friend's language. I'd never heard Zabini say that before. He pushed off from the counter. "You know bloody well where she's gone. Now why don't you tell me the real reason. Is it because you're stubborn? Because you're scared?"

"I'm not scared!" I said, voice rising. "What have I to be scared of?"

"You're scared of her," said Blaise, eying my evenly. "You're scared because when you're with her, she has complete control."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" I spat.

He regarded me calmly. "Don't I, Draco? I seem to have been right about everything before this."

_"She's nobody."  
_

_Zabini leaned against his bed and observed me quietly for a moment. Finally, he said, "If she's nobody, why are you in love with her?"_

_"For the umpteenth time, Zabini, I'm not in love with her. I detest her."_

_"She said the same thing about you, actually. I don't believe either of you for a bloody second."_

"Lucky guesses."

"Is your fear why you keep ruining things with her?" he asked.

"I'm not ruining anything! Over half of these fights have been her fault! She always overreacts to every little stupid thing--"

"That's because she's afraid, too." Blaise grinned, the grin I disliked so extremely because it was the grin he got when he knew he was right. "When one of you waves that little white flag of surrender, everything will settle the way it's supposed to."

"Well, don't you sound philosophical today," I sneered sarcastically. "Going Dumbledore on me?"

Blaise snorted, chewing the last of his toast and grabbing another off the plate. "Please. Like Dumbledore knew squat about relationships."

* * *

3rd Person POV

Emma's Animagus form failed her halfway to Sterling Manor. She plummeted from the sky, casting a spell from her wand moments before she hit the ground. She thumped her fist in the grass out of frustration. Of all the times for her magic to skip out on her! She took a deep breath, knowing that her weakening power was because of her emotions. She turned her head, shivering suddenly. The grass was...was that _frost_? She bolted up, her wand out in front of her. A dementor floated toward her across the grassy hill.

_It's hopeless_, spoke her mind suddenly, gloom invading her thoughts.

She tried to shake it off. _Happy thoughts!_

Memories surfaced in her mind. Her father, being taken away by the Aurors, dementors all around her house...

It was closer to her now.

Her father, dying as she held him, dead as she screamed...

Too close.

She racked her brain, desperate for a happy memory. Something. Anything. She took an almost-unconscious step back.

Lucius torturing her...the burning Dark Mark...Snape killing Dumbledore while she tried in vain to make it in time to save him...

"No!" She stepped back again. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A faint silvery mist leaked out of her wand tip. She choked back a sob. _Think of Draco. Think of Draco!_

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

The mist solidified into a silver butterfly, which fluttered in place between her and the dementor. _A butterfly? _she thought. _It used to be a raven. A butterfly is so...tiny._ The dementor threw its hands up in front of where its face should be, and fled the way it had come. Slowly, she sank to her knees with another dry sob. It was a long time before she stood and continued on her way to Sterling Manor.

* * *

Despite having been abandoned for nearly seven years, Sterling Manor was the same as when she'd left it. She entered the front door, removing the Protection Charms that had been set there by a thoughtful Ministry worker. A thick layer of dust covered the chandelier over her head, making the once-brilliant crystals seem dull. She raised her wand; the chandelier lit, filling the front room with light. She walked through the home slowly, taking it all in.

There was the antique table her mother had received as a wedding gift, placed in a haphazard part of the hallway, where she'd knocked it over numerous times. There, in her father's office, was the collection of Muggle music both her parents had enjoyed. She picked up a dust-coated vinyl record and wiped at the sleeve with her thumb to reveal that it was by an artist called Led Zepplin. There, third door from the stairs, was her old bedroom. She pushed open the door, hearing the hinges squeak slightly. Hardly noticing anything else in the room, she strode over to the small bed, its pink sheets now faded to a light peach color. The box that she pulled from underneath it let loose a heavy poof of dust when she pried the lid off.

A faded black-and-white photograph was the first thing that caught her eye. She picked it up gingerly, afraid it would simply fall apart.

Her mother smiled up at her, hands clasped behind her back.

Emma replaced the photo, lifting the wand, eleven-and-three-quarter-inch ash with a fairy wing core. The wand was proof of her mother's Sight; fairy wing and ash were materials drawn to masters of Divination. Beneath the wand was a small book that was an exact clone of the silver journal in her dresser drawer back at the Malfoy's. The cover, however, was blank. Under the book, a small gold gun with a mother-of-pearl grip. A Muggle device, the gun had probably been inherited from her grandfather. She slipped the lid back onto the box and used her wand to shrink it, placing it carefully in her pocket. Tears stung her eyes abruptly.

_I don't know that I want this house,_ she thought. She exhaled slowly, noticing with wide eyes that she could suddenly see her own breath...

* * *

Emma's POV

The first thing I thought when I felt the chill was that the damn dementor had _followed _me. I turned, mentally arming myself with cheery childhood memories. The dementor just stood in the doorway of my old bedroom. It was not advancing; it probably knew it was blocking my only exit. I raised my wand, startled to find my hand was steady. The sense of utter hopelessness and despair wasn't nearly as strong as before in the field. I barely had time to frown before something happened that completely floored me. With a sound like wind rushing during a storm, the dementor spoke.

* * *

Draco's POV

Emma had been gone for three and a half hours. My leg twitched horribly while I sat in an armchair in the small drawing room, staring down at a Quidditch magazine my eyes didn't register. Pansy was lying on her stomach on the floor with a fashion magazine, complaining every ten minutes or so about how bored she was. Zabini was nowhere to be seen. My knee was bouncing, and I watched it with growing agitation. Finally, I stood, tossing the magazine in the chair I'd been sitting.

Pansy looked up at me as I stomped out. "Draco? Where are you going?"

"Air," was all I grumbled in response.

I went around to the back of the house, pulled my broomstick out of the shed.

"Finally going after her?"

_Merlin!_ I nearly jumped, catching myself just in time. Zabini wasn't smirking, I noticed. He just looked curious.

"Where've you been?" I asked. "Haven't seen you in hours."

"I've been busy." He shrugged, arms crossed.

His clothes were covered in a fine blue powder, and his hair stuck up a little. I frowned. Blaise usually paid very close attention to how he looked. _Busy with what exactly?_

"What were you busy with that involves dust?"

"Dust?" He glanced down at his black short-sleeve shirt. "Oh, hell."

Zabini brushed himself off roughly, releasing a cloud of the powder.

"Oi!" I said, waving it away with a cough. "Do that somewhere else!"

He shot me a withering look as I coughed again. Throwing me a water bottle, which I drank out of gladly, he said, "Look, if you go after her now, she'll just get pissed."

"I want to see her," I said. "I miss her."

I scowled at myself. What the hell was I doing? I don't tell Zabini my feelings. I keep it safely hidden. That's when I noticed the devilish grin on his face. I groaned.

"What'd I drink?" I asked in dismay, examining the water bottle.

"Veritaserum," he said with a chuckle.

_WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!_

"Take your broom, get out of the house for an hour," he continued. "When Emma gets back..."

"I don't want to be spouting off 'inner truths' when Emma's around!" I seethed. "Oh, _Merlin_, I don't want to be spouting inner truths when _Pansy's _around!"

"You aren't angry at me, are you?" He smirked.

"I only get mad at you because I sometimes think you're better-looking than me." The words came before they registered in my mind.

I clapped two hands over my mouth as Blaise burst out laughing.

"DAMN YOU, ZABINI!"

* * *

Emma's POV

It said, and I quote, "Patronus weakened me."

The dementor's voice echoed a bit, sounding more like whistles and whooshes than actual words.

"What do you want, an apology?" I snapped.

_This is crazy. Dementors don't _talk_._

"Without, you would die. No apology."

I froze, wand ready to cast another Patronus. "You shouldn't be able to talk. You aren't supposed to be able to talk."

"Not talking." It lifted a hand, stretched it towards me as if demonstrating something. "Link."

I stared at it uncomprehendingly and it clarified. "Mind link."

It dawned on me then. "Oh my God," I whispered, horrified. "Get out of my head. _Get the hell out of my head!_"

* * *

Draco's POV

I'd been flying in circles for what seemed like forever, but my watch told me it had only been twenty minutes. I scanned the tree tops blankly, my jaw clenched a little. I could do this for an hour. She would be back by then...I hoped.

* * *

Emma's POV

"Needed to communicate," said the dementor. "Only way."

_Can't this thing 'speak' in full sentences?_

"Can only hear if said out loud," it added.

"How the hell is this possible?" I wasn't lowering my wand anytime soon; at least not until Mr. Floating-Faceless-And-Creepy moved away from the doorway.

"Too complicated," the dementor protested in its whistling voice. "Not important."

"Then what _is _important?" _This is crazy. I'm talking to a _dementor_!_

"Patronus."

It didn't say anything else, so I asked, "Why don't you do this with everyone?" My shoulder ached, starting to stiffen. _Yeah, like the wizarding world is ready for mind-melding with creatures of despair. I'm going to need therapy for this._

"Painful for you."

"Me?" I pointed at myself with my free hand. _Of course it is. Isn't it always?_

The dementor shook its cloaked head. "Humans, general. Patronus weakens, makes possible." It pointed one long, knobby finger at me. "Butterfly Patronus, rare." The finger moved to point at the wand I held in my hand. "Chimaera scale, rare." _How does this thing know what's in my wand? _It dropped its arm back to its side. "Rowena Ravenclaw descendant."

"I'm sorry, huh?" I stared at it as my disbelief overflowed.

"Rowena Ravenclaw descendant," repeated the dementor firmly.

"Rowena Ravenclaw only had one daughter, who died with no children," I said slowly. _I've completely lost my mind._

"Wrong," stated the creature. "Second daughter. Changed name. Married Sterling."

_Come to think of it, Dad was always saying I was the first Sterling girl to be born in generations...all the previous Sterlings had been male._

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Dead."

My eyes widened, an image forming unbidden in my mind. The flash of green light, the darkness that followed, the slowing heartbeat...

The dementor pointed at me again. "Dead. Slow heart. No blood."

_Could you sound a little creepier?_

"What do you mean 'no blood'?" I demanded. "I bleed!"

_Actually, I haven't bled since then...Well, that's just because I haven't hurt myself recently!_

"No blood," it said again. "Slow heart. Dead."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" I screamed at it.

I felt the chill go with it as the dementor suddenly glided away. I chased after it, taking the stairs two at a time as it slid out of the open front door.

"Get back here! Explain!"

It said one last thing before the connection, whatever it was, was broken.

"Your soul is not for us. We do not harm the Four."

_The only full freaking sentence that thing utters, and it's a damn mystery. It couldnt _explain _in a full sentence, no, it had to sound like a freaking mental patient. Who's 'the Four'?_

I unshrunk the box suddenly, pulling out the mother-of-pearl gun. I turned it over in my hand.

_What did it mean when it said I was dead?_

I checked it; it was loaded. My heart pounded in fear, but...

_My heartbeat is slower than it should be. Oh God. A knife. I need a knife. I need to check!_

I put the gun back hurriedly, my hands fumbling with my wand as I aimed it shakily at my left hand. "_Sectumsempra_."

A slice appeared on the top of my hand. _It's going to start bleeding like crazy any time now. _But it didn't. No blood flowed from the cut. I pushed, I poked, I clenched my teeth through the pain and sliced myself again, but it still didn't bleed.

_Oh God, oh God..._I had always suspected there would be consequences for somehow living through that Killing Curse, but _this_?

_Oh _God_. If I can't bleed does that mean..._I swallowed, staring at the cuts in my hand. _Does that mean I can't have kids? How is my heart still beating if there's no blood? What's the point of it beating? Does this mean I can't ever die?_

Not stopping to think about it, afraid I'd lose my nerve, I grasped the gun for a second time, pressing it against my temple and pulling the trigger. There was a click. I opened my eyes slowly, looking down at the gun. It was loaded, wasn't it? I aimed away from me, pulled the trigger again. _Click. BAM! _The bullet flew into the distance, scattering a group of birds.

_Why didn't it shoot _me_? Am I...Am I not human anymore? How can I go back to Draco now? I can't give him children, I won't die with him. Will I even age?_

_Calm down, _said a small voice. _You've watched too much Muggle science fiction. There's a reasonable explanation for all of this. The gun probably stalled. And you just got your period a few weeks ago, didn't you? So what you don't bleed when you're cut? That doesn't change you._

I took a deep breath, beginning to relax, and an even smaller, quieter voice said, _And Draco never has to know._

_

* * *

_A/N: alrighty then.

it's a bit sad that i've already got a sequel going and it's only been like, what, a week since i finished the first one?

this proves just how horribly i need a life. but i guess i should finish this before school starts, when i won't have time to continue anything.

**review.**

^_^

or no second chapter! that's right, i went there.


	2. Calm Before The Storm

A/N: chap 2!

i know that in most of my chapters i throw these deep, hardcore angst things at you, so i did a bit of lightening up before that in this chapter.

hope you enjoy my odd sense of humor!

* * *

Calm Before The Storm

Draco knew Emma was back because he could hear Pansy's voice yelling. He put his broom in the shed, walking slowly to the house. His legs itched to run; part of him wanted her in his arms _now_. The other part of him was wary. She was bound to be agitated at Pansy, was probably annoyed at Blaise, was most likely still mad at Draco himself. And blabbing his inner-most secrets wouldn't help matters either, but he had a feeling things would get much worse if he avoided her.

"Draco!" exclaimed Blaise with a smile. "Guess who's back?"

There was a pause in the yelling and a loud noise came from upstairs, and then Pansy was hurtling down the steps. She crashed into Blaise, who, in his surprise, was nearly knocked flat on his back. Pansy covered her face in her hands, not seeming to care that she was crying openly in front of Blaise.

"Bitch!" Emma shouted from the top of the stairway. Her face was flushed, her cheeks tear-stained. Her legs gave out on her and she collapsed in a heap, holding two halves of something paper in her hands.

Shell-shocked, Blaise and Draco looked at each other in disbelief.

"Uh, what's going on?" asked Draco.

"That...That..._She hit me!_" Pansy shrieked.

Emma looked up, rage distorting her features. "I could've done worse, you stupid baby! You ripped it! Do you even care?"

"It's just a picture!" shouted Pansy through her tears.

"_You're going to pay for_--" With a scream of pure anger, Emma launched herself from the top of the stairs, arms outstretched towards Pansy, who screamed and hid against Blaise. Draco stepped in between them, catching Emma and holding her back as she tried in vain to get her hands on Pansy.

"Calm down!" he yelled. "Just calm down and tell me what happened!"

Her eyes were filled with fire. "She went through my things! I'm barely back for ten minutes and I find that _cockroach_ searching through my things!" Suddenly inspired, she reached for her wand. "Cockroach! That's what I should've done! Instead of punching you, I should have turned you into a _goddamn cockroach_!"

Draco wrestled her wand away from her. "She already acts like a cockroach, there's no need to complete the look."

Pansy's mouth dropped. "Draco!"

Draco sent a look to Blaise, who chuckled weakly. _Damn truth serum, _thought Draco.

"It wasn't just my stuff!" Emma continued. "She went through the things I have from my Mum! There was a box and I had it on my bed. She took the picture, she--she--she _ripped _it! She doesn't care, either! She's too selfish to care about anything except her stupid _face_--"

Pansy pulled her hands away from her face, revealing a split and swollen lower lip. "You can fix it with magic, can't you?!"

"It's a Muggle photo!" Emma exploded. "It doesn't _work _like that! Once it's ripped, it _stays_--" She roared wordlessly. "I could just kill you, Pansy!"

Whimpering, Pansy ducked behind Blaise.

"Calm down," Draco repeated softly to Emma. "This isn't just about the picture. Something else is bothering you. What happened at Sterling Manor?"

She sniffed. "Nothing happened. I just...It's been so long, and I found that picture of Mum and it was the last one I had and--"

"Shh, it's alright." He stroked her hair. "What do you think will calm you down?"

"Quidditch," she mumbled into his chest.

"What?" He frowned in confusion. Blaise used the pause in screaming to lead Pansy away before Emma exploded again.

"I want to play Quidditch," Emma clarified slowly. "And damn it all, I get to be the Beater."

* * *

Draco's POV

More had happened in her old home than Emma was willing to let on. I wanted to question her, but...

"Take _that_!"

...Emma kind of frightened me when she was angry.

She swung at the Bludger, hard, sending it rocketing towards Blaise. He dodged it narrowly, but the Quaffle he'd thrown missed the goalpost. He shot her an incredulous look.

"Hell, girl!" he exclaimed. "How'd you get good? You were passed up for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, weren't you?"

She snorted, shifting the bat in her hand. "That's only because I'm a girl, and Jason Samuels was bigger than me. Roger Davies was completely prejudiced. The only reason Cho Chang became Seeker was because Davies fancied her."

Another Bludger came her way, and she pulled her arm back, striking it directly in the center of the bat. It zoomed at Pansy, nearly knocking her off her broom. She steadied herself and called angrily, "You did that on purpose!"

A smile played on Emma's face. "So?"

Pansy huffed, Blaise slapped Emma a high five, and Emma began to laugh. I smiled. This was how I liked seeing her. Happy.

"Draco, focus!" snapped Blaise suddenly, flying past me. "Distract Knight for me."

"She scares me," I said, immediately cursing Blaise and his stupid Veritaserum. "And plus, I'm on her team, Blaise."

Emma froze on her broom. "You're scared of me?"

"Only when you're angry." _Stupid Zabini! I'm going to kill you for this!_

She navigated next to me, peering into my eyes. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Great, actually. I'm relieved you're home."

She just stared and said, "You're not slurring...and you don't smell like alcohol...."

"I'm not drunk!" I exclaimed, a little insulted she would immediately jump to that conclusion.

Emma looked skeptical but eventually shrugged. "Alright then."

* * *

Emma's POV

After the Quidditch game, with most of my anger spent, I sat on the bed Draco and I shared, my mother's photo in front of me, tape holding the two halves together. I picked up the silver journal, opening it to the first page and tracing my mother's signature with my pointer finger. The first page of the journal held an entry.

_I'm partners with a Slytherin named Severus Snape in Potions. He hates me; calls me Mudblood every chance he gets. Every time he does something better than me in class, he acts all high and mighty. That Evans girl is no different. I know for a fact that Severus doesn't call _her_ Mudblood. So that's it then. From now on, I'll improve at Potions until I'm better than both of them._

There were no other diary entries in the book, but there were potion instructions. One page was an improvement on the Polyjuice Potion in order for the effects to last longer than an hour, another was a way to make Felix Felicis without the side effects, and yet another was in-depth instructions on how to use a runespoor egg to make a Remembering Draught.

I frowned. I'd never heard of a Remembering Draught. Did it even exist? I knew there was a potion to reverse the effect of Memory Spells, but usually the potions were temporary. From what I could tell, the Remembering Draught, whatever it was, was permanent. A note near the bottom said, "Dilute for memory fishing."

Most of the pages were similar; recipes to potions I'd never heard of that covered everything from becoming invisible to something she had named "Instant Language" in French, Italian, Spanish, and Japanese. And then there were little tidbits of information, scrawled so hastily on the paper that the words either slanted horribly or took up the whole page. They were sentences that didn't seem to connect with any of the other potions, things my mother had probably written while experimenting. Slanted in the bottom left corner of one page, for example, she had written "Combining dittany and g. treacle results", here she had drawn an arrow, "light blue, smells of bubblegum and lavender, causes numbness. Try mincing dittany instead of peeling."

I assumed that "g. treacle" stood for Glumbumble Treacle, a liquid used in the making of some antidotes. And dittany was for healing potions. My mother had been trying to combine them, create what many had tried: an All-Healer.

I heard footsteps and suddenly panicked, throwing the book in the corner of the room behind the chair that sat there. I was worried Pansy had already seen the book while she was snooping, had already read it. I didn't want anyone else to know about it. What business was it of theirs anyway? She was _my _mother. Then Draco walked through the door with a hesitant smile and I suddenly felt guilty that I was keeping so much from him.

"Hey," he said, sitting next to me on the bed. "I was worried about you." The second sentence was spoken through clenched teeth, as if he didn't want to say it.

"Don't be. I'm fine." I took a deep breath. He laced his fingers with mine, and his touch comforted me in a way that quite nearly made me uncomfortable. It was almost pathetic how much I loved this stupid git.

"The only reason I went with Pansy to the Yule Ball in fourth year was because I'm afraid of rejection." The words rushed out of his mouth. He turned his head to the side, swearing colorfully. "That's part of why I blackmailed you in sixth year to get you to go to the New Year's Ball with me, I was afraid you'd just say no if I asked. ZABINI!!"

I jumped. From downstairs, where Blaise was finally healing Pansy's split lip and probably making tea, I heard a loud bark of laughter.

"Draco, what's going on? Why are you talking like that?" I looked him over again just to double check his sobriety.

"Veritaserum," he grumbled, rubbing his temple with one hand. "Blaise slipped it to me about two hours ago, before you came back. There's another hour at least until it wears off, and until then..."

"You're forced to speak the truth and uncontrollably list inner secrets." I squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry, Dray."

_Note to self: even if life depends on it, do not accept any liquid from Zabini. Ever. _The last thing I needed was to be bursting out with one of the multiple things I was currently hiding from my boyfriend. I stood suddenly, brightening.

"I'll brew up an antidote," I said, remembering one of the potions my mother had improved in her book. "Shouldn't take more than half an hour." I kissed the top of his head, feeling another pang of guilt.

_How bad would it be to just tell him? _wheedled my conscience. _He loves you, he's proved that. It wouldn't be too horrible, would it?_

_What would I say? _I countered bitterly. _"Draco, did I mention I'm leaving you for three years to train to be an Auror? Draco, did I happen to tell you I had a conversation with a dementor? Draco, did I tell you that the dementor said I'm a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw? Oh, I didn't? Silly me. By the way, I'm also dead." That would go over reall well._

My hand was on the doorknob when Draco's voice stopped me.

"Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything?"

* * *

Draco's POV

The truth was wrenched from me even as my rational mind thought, _If she wants you to know, she'll tell you._

Seeing as the other half of my mind was fogged up with truth serum, I inevitably asked, "Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything?"

Emma laughed weakly, turning to face me. "Potion-induced paranoia?"

I shook my head slowly, eyes never leaving her face as I watched her reaction, and said, "Something happened that you're not telling me."

She swallowed and looked away. "There was a dementor," she said, "near my house. Sterling Manor, I mean."

"What? What are they doing all the way out here? The Ministry needs to be informed of this--"

Her worried expression gave way to impatience. "Oh, come off it, Dray. I know you think the Ministry is a system of wankers."

I tried not to let my amusement show. While I had indeed stated that sentence many times, it was the first time I'd heard her say "wanker". the longer she lived here instead of America, the more British slang she was starting to pick up.

"And anyway," she continued, "it was probably only there because I was feeling sorry for myself over our fight and sad over my parents. It doesn't matter, I took care of it."

There was a pause. "So, is that it?" I pressed. "That's all that happened?"

She leaned against the door frame, arms over her chest. "That and my Patronus changed."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

"Before the war, before I..." She trailed off suddenly. "It was a raven before. Now, it's..."

"A ferret?" I teased.

"A butterfly."

I blinked, trying to make sure she wasn't joking. "So, let me get this straight," I said, holding back my grin. "Potter is a stag, Granger's got an otter, Weasley can make a bloody _lion_--I kid you not, I've seen it--and my girlfriend's fearsome Patronus is a--" I cleared my throat. "--a butterfly?"

My voice cracked and suddenly I was laughing.

"Glad you can find the amusement in all this," grumbled Emma, wrenching open the door.

"Oh, now wait a minute, baby--" The door slammed shut and I rested back against the headboard. "Well, damn," I told the empty room. "I did it again."

* * *

Emma's POV

I stared at the cauldron where Draco's truth serum antidote sat. It had been ready for twenty minutes now, and I'd already ladled some into a bottle, but I couldn't seem to leave the room. The Malfoy's basement was a welcome change from the piercing eyes and soft hair of the person I was lying to. I had made it to the door, then turned, leaned against it, and sank to the cement floor. The guilt of not telling Draco the things that had suddenly come front and center in my life made me want to explode. I settled for clenched my fists, burying my head against my knees, and screaming.

* * *

3rd Person POV

Draco's fingers drummed restlessly on the kitchen counter as he awaited the appearance of his girlfriend and, hopefully, a vial of truth-serum antidote.

"Where's Knight?" said Pansy with a grimace.

"Probably sulking somewhere." Blaise snickered, stirring his tea leisurely. "From the look on your face, Draco, you and Emma had another fight."

Draco drew his eyebrows together in a frown. "Wait a second. You called her Emma in the boom shed, too."

Pansy perked up, eyebrows raising, as she jumped to conclusions. She'd always suspected Blaise was bi, and the phrase "in the broom shed" posed some interesting questions.

Blaise shrugged. "So?" His signature smirk, a near copy of Draco's own, was still in place, which showed how unconcerned he was over Draco's realization.

"And she's been calling you Blaise," said the Malfoy, the expression on his face similar to that of someone recently struck by lightning.

"Again, I say: so?"

"Since when are you two on a first name basis?" Blaise opened his mouth to answer, but Draco suddenly held up one finger, looking pained. He quickly walked out the sliding glass door, closed it behind him and said, "When I was four years old I thought I would marry my Aunt Bellatrix.", much to the horror and slight amusement of his mother, who, having not yet left for Scotland, was lounging in a pool chair.

Once back inside, his face a faint pink--"You're enjoying this too much," he grumbled as Blaise doubled over, laughing--Blaise wiped his eyes and said, "To answer your question, we are not on a first name basis. I suppose 'Blaise' is less of a mouthful than 'Zabini' and I happen to find the name 'Emma' quite pretty to say." He shrugged again. "But you do gotta respect her. She's tough. Plus, she amuses the hell out of me. And I suppose there are worse things than being a half-breed. She could've been a Mudblood."

The teen boy shuddered.

"Despite being Mudblood, Hermoine Granger was kind of pretty," said Draco. _What the hell did I just say?! _He growled dangerously, shooting Blaise an "I hate you" look.

Blaise just sipped his tea innocently, a huge smile on his face, relishing in the entertainment and blackmail material he was getting from one little dose of Veritaserum. He was seriously considering spiking Draco's drinks more often.

"So, what were you two doing in a broom shed?" Pansy leaned forward, placing her chin in her hand.

The two boys looked at her in confusion. As Blaise connected the dots, his face scrunched up with disgust.

"Oh, come _on_, Parkinson," he said, obviously grossed out. "Draco's my _cousin_. That's just creepy. I'm not even close to being that desperate."

"'That desperate'?" repeated Draco with a skeptical look. Abruptly, he pulled his wand out, drowning the space around him in Silencing Charms before bursting out with, "I listen to a Muggle music group from America called Breaking Benjamin."

"If I were desperate," Blaise said with a smirk as Draco removed the Silencing Charms, "I would have slept with Pansy by now."

Pansy, who had apparently stopped listening after Blaise denied doing Draco in the broom shed, looked up from her _Witch Weekly_. "Huh?"

He chuckled. "Never mind, Parkinson."

She shrugged, going back to her magazine.

"I thought Blaise was a girl until we turned seven." Draco winced. Where was Emma with that antidote?

Blaise choked on his tea, coughing. "_What?!_"

"Let's not focus on that," Draco said hastily. He attempted a nonchalant smirk. "Back to you being desperate. We both know you haven't had a decent shag since sixth year with Susan Bones."

_That _caught Pansy's attention. She stared at Blaise across the table where they sat, her jaw nearly touching the floor.

"You shagged a _Hufflepoof_?" she shrieked.

"Hufflepuff," corrected Blaise absently.

"I know what I said!"

Blaise sighed. "Alright, fine, Draco, you're right. While I'm not desperate, per se, I will admit that Bones was the best I've had since sixth year. You'd be surprised at how many girls are utter crap when it comes to--"

"I can't believe you shagged a Hufflepoof!" repeated Pansy, who seemed completely unwilling to let it go. "That's almost worse than shagging a Gryffindork--" She froze as he took on a dreamy expression.

"Demelza Robins, beginning of seventh year," he said, grinning. "I'd nearly forgotten. Best of my life so far. Fan-bloody-tastic."

"Never pegged you as the type to go after prey on the side of the Brave and Righteous." Draco chuckled. Pansy was turning a new, world-record-breaking shade of red with each passing second. "She was probably pretending you were Potter the whole time."

Scowling, Blaise said, "And when was the last time you got any, oh great Malfoy?"

"Never, I'm a virgin." Draco was on his feet in a second. "OKAY, THAT'S IT! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR GIVING ME THAT POTION!"

A hysterical Blaise simply laid on the floor, clutching his sides and rolling as Draco launched curses at the dark-skinned boy. Pansy was in such a state of shock that she decided it would be better to pretend she just hadn't heard. Meanwhile, no one out of the three noticed Emma enter the kitchen and pour a cup of tea, slipping the contents of a small bottle into it and stirring daintily. She placed the cup on the table, staring down at the two fighting boys. Draco's wand lay forgotten on the kitchen tile as he attacked Blaise with his fists; apparently, he had given up on spells. Blaise was still chortling, having found the whole situation well worth any bruises or cuts his best friend might deal him. Emma pulled Draco off of Blaise, planting her boyfriend firmly in his chair. She pointed to the steaming mug in front of him.

"Drink it. Now."

Draco threw one last glare at Blaise, muttering "kill you" again before sipping his tea.

Blaise smirked. "Tell me what you really think of me, Draco."

The pale blonde boy sipped again, sending a glowing look to Emma, who had taken the only free seat left at the table next to Pansy. His girlfriend blew softly on the contents of her own cup.

"I think," he began, flashing his friend a grin, "that you're a twisted, sadistic git with a cruel, unfunny sense of humor whom I no longer trust to be left alone in the same room as potion ingredients."

Pouting immediately, Blaise looked at Emma. "You gave him an antidote."

"Yep." Emma's eyes were closed. She drank slowly.

"What is that, coffee again?" Pansy wrinkled her nose, glancing into Emma's cup.

"Yep."

"It smells different."

"Yep."

"Why?"

Emma sighed, setting the cup down. "I added things to it."

"Calming Draught, I bet," said Blaise, eying her. "You look more in control than you did an hour ago."

She nodded shortly, holding up a small glass vial, half full. "Sorry it took so long to get you the antidote, Dray."

"Poor Draco, in all his virginity, had to wait," sniggered Blaise.

"Is there something besides Calming Draught in there?" Draco asked curiously, desperate to draw the subject away from the numerous things he'd said while under the effect of the serum.

She smiled. "Another 'Muggle drink'," she said, mocking Pansy. "It's called vodka."

* * *

Emma's POV

That night, as Draco laid on top of me in the bed we shared and kissed me with the hunger I'd come to recognize, I wondered if there would ever be a time when I could tell him. I wanted nothing more than for everything to be okay for us. So, when he ravaged my mouth with a force that turned me to jelly, I did my best to match that fire, to try and reciprocate the intensity he felt right then. But when his hand slipped under my night shirt, I pulled away from him before things went any farther. I stayed awake until his steady, slow breaths told me that he was asleep. I downed the rest of the Calming Draught and turned on my side, letting the potion erode away at my panic and guilt. He was giving me all of him. I was giving him half.

* * *

When the 18th rolled around, I went to Diagon Alley alone.

It wasn't hard to find Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; the sign was huge and there were hordes of people looking in the windows. I forced my way through the crowd, slipping the the door. The inside of the joke shop was just as packed as outside it. I pushed past as many people as I could, thanking God for the first time that I had bony elbows. Someone from behind bumped into me, and I lost my balance, falling through a curtain. Sprawled on the floor in what was presumably the back room of the shop, I groaned at the pain in my head. I'd evidently banged it on the floor when I fell--

"Well, aren't you a cute one."

I sat up, gingerly touching my forehead. Kneeling by me was a tall, red-headed boy with bright blue eyes. He was grinning.

Winking at me, he said, "I'm George. What's your name, cutie?"

My cheeks went pink of their own accord.

"Struck speechless, I see." He pushed my hair away from my forehead. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"I'm fine," I said, looking away. _I have a boyfriend, I have a boyfriend._

"George!" whined a voice behind me. "Stop trying to pick up random girls, will you?"

I recognized the voice and smiled. "I'm not a random girl, Ron." I stood up and turned, hand on my hip. Ron's mouth dropped.

"You--You're--I--" he spluttered.

"Ron, how did you get past those people faster than--"

Hermoine and Harry walked through the curtain to stand behind Ron. Harry stared, took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. Hermoine's face lit up.

"Emma!!" The Trio moved as one, smothering me with hugs.

I laughed, feeling happier than I had in days. "Hello to you, too."

When they pulled back, Hermoine hit me, hard, on the shoulder.

"What was that for?"

Harry hit my shoulder next, closely followed by Ron.

"Ow! Okay, what's going on?" I rubbed my sore shoulder.

"That's for disappearing!" Hermoine said, enveloping in another hug.

"And partially for flirting with my brother," Ron grumbled.

"I wasn't flirting!" I protested. I glanced at George, then looked away. _Boyfriend, boyfriend. _

"Then why is your face red, and why is George grinning like he won the lottery?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know!" I fidgeted under their gaze. "Stop looking at me like that." Looking over Harry's shoulder, I added, "Where's Ginny?"

"She and I got in a fight," Harry muttered. "It's no big deal."

"Oi, Harry, before you leave," called George, "I wanted to show you this! Fred and I were working on it before...you know. I finished it yesterday." He walked to the back of the room and pulled a flat orange circular container. "Fred wanted to call it Finishing Dust. Myself, I prefer Revealing Powder, but regardless of the name, here it is!" He unscrewed the lid. Inside was a fine, glittering purple powder.

"What does it do?" asked Harry, peering at the dust.

"Well, you just sprinkle a little of this in the air..." George demonstrated. The powder flew into the air and hung suspended for a moment before lightly coating all of them. "...and it reveals any charms or spells that had been cast in that area. Or, if it lands on a person, it cancels any charms or incantations--Imperius Curse included--that had been placed on the person."

"Genius," muttered Ron.

"It sounds simple enough," said Hermoine.

"Oh, it wasn't simple to _make_," George laughed. "We tried it on ourselves at first, worked fine in the air, but it turned us purple if it touched our skin--"

I stopped listening, staring at my arm in horror. That stupid purple dust had cancelled the charm on my arm, leaving the Dark Mark visible for all to see. _Shit shit shit!!!!!_

I made sure Harry and the others weren't looking at me, and drew my wand. None of my spells worked. I stashed my wand in despair, trying to cover up the mark with my hand. My hand was much smaller than the mark. I bit my lip, feeling tears spring to my eyes, and squeezed them shut as Harry turned around.

"Emma? What's wrong?" he asked

"Em--" Hermoine stopped in the middle of her sentence, gasping.

_This is it. This is when I lose them forever._ I felt the tears slide down my cheeks as I dropped my hand. Dimly, I heard Ron swear.

"I'm sorry," was all I could choke out. "I'm so, so, sorry."

* * *

3rd Person POV

Blaise was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper, when Pansy walked in smiling. She hummed as she made herself a pot of tea. Blaise narrowed his eyes at her.

"What's made you so happy?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "I'm just happy that wretched Ravenclaw's gone."

"She's coming back, you know. She's only visiting that group of Gryffindorks for a few hours--Oh, bloody hell, now you've got _me_ saying it."

"She'll be permanently gone a lot sooner than you think, Zabini."

Scanning a newspaper article that he wasn't really reading he said, "What do you have planned, Parkinson?"

She giggled evilly. "What makes you think I have anything planned?"

Suddenly, Blaise was standing right beside her, looming over her, a look of controlled anger on his face. "If you do anything to hurt Malfoy's happinness with Emma, I'll personally see to it that you live the rest of your miserable life as that cockroach Emma was suggesting."

He stalked away after that threat, so he missed it completely when Pansy whispered, "What are you talking about, Blaise? After all, _you're_ the one who's going to help me break them up."

* * *

A/N: (evil laughter)

i'm so horrible. hehehe.

chapter two is finished and chapter three is on the way!

**review_._**

:)


	3. Emotions Tend to Be Flammable

A/N: this chapter may be a little...anti-climactic.

let me know. i just hate making the Trio hate her.

:[

* * *

Emotions Tend to Be Flammable

Emma's POV

I stood stock still, not daring to speak, not daring to breathe. I bit my lip harshly again as the tears flowed freely down my face. There was a strangled sob; I wasn't sure if it was from me or Hermoine. We were both crying.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated. "I didn't have a choice, I--"

"How much?" said Harry in a low voice.

"What?"

"How much did you tell Voldemort?!" He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me hard. "How much did he know?!"

"I didn't tell him anything--"

"LIAR!"

The side of my face burned, and I was suddenly on the ground in a heap. He had slapped me.

"Maybe she's telling the truth," sobbed Hermoine. "Maybe she didn't--"

His face contorted with rage, he whirled on her. "She's lied to us for two years, Hermoine, _two bloody years_!"

"You let Malfoy go!" she screamed. "You let him and his lying, bastard father go! We've known her for years, Harry, she's our friend--"

"Why didn't she tell us then, huh?!"

Ron was staring at Hermoine, stunned. "I've never heard you swear before." He cleared his throat. "Mate, she's right. Emma was our friend, the least you could do is listen--"

I flinched at Ron's use of past tense. I had expected his words; I hadn't expected the sting that they would carry.

"Why didn't she tell us, then?!" Harry repeated.

"Harry," I said softly. "What would you have done if I had told you sixth year that Voldemort had given me the Dark Mark?"

"I would have--" He stopped. "I would have--" He ran a hand through his hair angrily. "That's not important!"

"Yes, it is." I stood shakily. "You would have done exactly what you're doing now. At least, this way, you don't have to deal with this and Dumbledore's death at the same time."

"What about seventh year?" demanded Harry. "You could have told me seventh year!"

I laughed shortly. "You weren't even at Hogwarts, Harry, and neither was I; you were preparing to fight a war, and I was practically suicidal over Draco."

"Were you _ever_ planning to tell us?!"

I shook my head as I began again to cry. "No. I wasn't."

George met my eyes. He was the only one who didn't look angry. He looked almost...understanding. Not an expression I was used to. "I have two questions for you: Were you at the battle at Hogwarts?"

I nodded.

"Whose side did you fight for?"

"I fought for Dumbledore's Army."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" asked Harry tiredly, all his energy suddenly sapped.

"You saw me there, Harry," I pleaded. "You saw me, in the Great Hall--"

"That just proves you were there, it doesn't prove what side you were on--"

"Oh, bloody hell, Harry!" Hermoine snapped. She wrenched away from Ron, coming to stand beside me. I just cried harder. I didn't deserve her support in this. I really didn't. "Stop being an arse! If she says she fought for Dumbledore, damn it all, she fought for bloody _Dumbledore_!"

The three boys in the room were shocked into silence. Hermoine was _swearing_. This was unheard of.

"I can't believe you're taking _her_ side in this, Hermoine--" Ron suddenly sputtered.

"After everything that's happened you're choosing to believe her--" Harry began.

"Shut up, the lot of you."

The two gaped openly. George, who was the one who had spoken, wore a fiercely angry expression.

"This is ridiculous," he said. "I expected better from you, Harry. We all know that crackpots like Rita Skeeter and those loser writers from the _Daily Prophet_ aren't above blaming people, but I didn't expect you to start doing it. If you have been friends with this girl for years, why the hell are you chewing her out about it now? The war is _over_, Harry."

"I know that!" Harry snapped.

"Then stop acting like it even matters that she has the Dark Mark," George snapped back. "So she didn't tell you, so what? She's a bloody smart one for not broadcasting it like Malfoy did. And have you noticed that she's practically blubbering? She's obviously upset, so she sure as bloody hell didn't get that mark willingly. So instead of being an arrogant git, why don't you just shut up and listen to her."

Struck speechless, neither of the boys said anything. Hermoine nodded smugly.

"Thank you, George." She turned to me. "Tell us what happened, Em."

"I'm sorry," I told her again. "I really am, I didn't have a choice, he just--"

"It's okay," she said. "Just start from the beginning."

She smiled. Only, instead of talking, I sobbed like a baby and cried into her shoulder.

* * *

The pub was practically empty. She placed a butterbeer in front of me, taking the seat across from me, next to Ron. I sat next to Harry, who was more or less refusing to talk to me. I took a deep breath, willing myself not to cry again, and explained everything that I'd left out. I paused only once, to sip my butterbeer. When I was finished, Ron looked stunned, Hermoine had tears in her eyes again, and Harry was still staring stonily down at his drink. I lowered my head.

_He still doesn't believe me._

Then I felt strong arms wrap around me, and Harry was hugging me, and I was crying and everything between us was suddenly okay.

* * *

Two butterbeers later, I was finally calm again. We were laughing, like nothing had happened, like I hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of their lives. Okay, maybe it wasn't the _biggest_ bomb, but it was definitely up there--

"Hello? Earth to Emma?"

I blinked. "Huh?"

"I said, how're you surviving Malfoy?" Ron grinned dorkishly.

"I'm alive now, aren't I?"

Hermoine noticed my sharp tone. "Have you guys been fighting a lot recently?"

I wrapped my fingers around my third butterbeer. "Almost hourly, now." I sighed.

"I'm sorry, Em," said Hermoine sympathetically.

"I'm not," muttered Ron under his breath. Hermoine elbowed him. "Ow!"

"Thanks for the honesty," I said dryly.

"Look, Emma, he's a git, alright? You could do so much better than him."

"He is a git," I agreed, "but he loves me."

"I spoke to Kingsley," said Harry, abruptly changing the subject. "He said you hadn't responded to his letter yet."

"Yes, I haven't gotten around to it. I sort of got...distracted."

"Distracted? By what?"

"Hermoine," I said carefully. "Have you ever heard of any incidences where a dementor...spoke?"

Hermoine furrowed her brow and bit her lip, thinking. "No, I can't say I have. But they have to have some way of communication, don't they? I mean, Fudge understood them well enough. Why do you ask?"

Slowly, I explained the dmentor's first appearance in the field, the change in my Patronus, it's second appearance at my house, and I hestitated briefly before telling them exactly what the dementor had said. There was silence for a while. Hermoine was first to speak, in what I had previously joked was her "analytical voice".

"It was right," she said. "A butterfly Patronus is quite rare. There have only been maybe two recorded wizards with that Patronus."

"That you're aware of," I added. "You couldn't possibly know the Patronus of every wizard in the world."

She shook her head. "I read a file at the Ministry of Magic. Witches and wizards were required to register the form of their Patronus during the First Wizarding War, as a safety precaution."

"But it used to be a raven," I pressed. "Why would it just change?"

"Have you gone through anything traumatic recently?" she asked.

_Green flash, darkness, my mother's voice..._

"Well, I..." I faltered, clearing my throat. "I might've...died a few weeks ago."

* * *

With everything out in the open, I expected to feel lighter. Instead, it felt like two twenty-pound weights had sprouted on my chest. it was getting hard to breathe.

"Wow," Hermoine murmured. "You've been through so much..." Her eyes welled up.

Guilt smashed into me. "No, 'moine, please don't cry."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry demanded for the third time that day.

"I didn't feel like I could," I said, almost desperately. "And don't go acting all high and mighty, Harry, I know there's plenty you haven't told me."

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Is that everything now? Are we up to speed?"

"Yep." _I think_. I was finding it a little hard to keep track of exactly what I hadn't told them. And then, there was the matter of separating the Don't-Tell-Draco secrets from the Don't-Tell-The-Trio secrets.

"I've never read about that happening," Hermoine whispered in awe. "By all laws of magic, Emma, you should be dead."

"I'm aware of that, 'moine," I snapped. I slid my empty butterbeer bottle back and forth between my hands. "It's true, though. I can't bleed. I tested it."

"Who's 'the Four'?" spoke Ron suddenly, his arm slung carelessly over the back of Hermoine's chair.

"Generally, that phrase refers to the four founders of Hogwarts," she stated. "But they're all dead and there are bound to be much more than four descendants--"

"Reincarnation!" interrupted Harry excitedly. His two friends just stared. "What? Isn't it a wizarding myth that very powerful wizards and witches can be reincarnated?"

"Well, yes, but that's just a _myth_, Harry," Hermoine protested.

Harry dropped his voice. "You said the same thing about the Deathly Hallows and look how that turned out."

Hermoine spluttered.

I pointed my finger at Harry. "First, you need to explain 'Deathly Hallows' later because I'm pouring my heart out here, and I am missing a large chunk of the details of your little adventure over the last year. Second, I'm a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw, _and _I'm her reincarnation?" I laughed. "Not to mention I'm also the weilder of a 'rare Chimaera scale wand' and a butterfly Patronus and, oh yeah, as an extra bonus, I'm dead!"

Ron and Hermoine shot me a look to warn me to keep my voice down as a group of wizards at the bar turned to stare at their table in interest.

"I know it must be hard to believe," Harry went on. "When things started happening to me, I--"

"Hard to believe?" I gave him an incredulous look. "Harry, I'm _nothing_ like you! This whole thing is crazy! I'm _plain_! I'm not extremely smart," I gestured at Hermoine, "or talented," here, Harry fidgeted, "or pretty or any of the things you three are! I was _invisible_ until my sixth year, and then everything just went BOOM!"

"On the bright side, you aren't invisible anymore," said Ron, smiling wryly.

"Gah!" I plopped my head in my hands.

"Let's talk about something else," suggested Hermoine gently.

"Yeah, like what you got from Tonk's will. Oh, and Snape's," chimed Ron.

I groaned inwardly. Five minutes. Can't we talk about something other than me for _five minutes_? I'd anticipated this, though, and I pulled the medal, potion, Foe-Glass, and Time-Turner out of my small handbag. I glanced briefly at the Foe-Glass--another figure had appeared, clearer than the tall blurred shape, that looked suspiciously like Pansy. I set the items on the table.

"Where did Tonks get her hands on a Time-Turner?" Ron stared at the device in amazement.

"That's the Foe-Glass I saw in the Room of Requirement!" exclaimed Harry, examining the cracked mirror.

I glanced at Hermoine, the only one who hadn't yet said anything. She was studying Snape's medal closely.

"Apparently, that's a Metamorph-Medal," I said, "but it only turns you orange--"

"Have you put it on yet?" she interrupted.

"What? I--no, I--"

"Put it on."

Frowning, I took the medallion from her and slipped it over my head. "I don't know what you're getting at--"

"Bloody hell!"

I turned my head. Harry was staring at me with a look of astonishment, the mirror in his hands forgotten.

"What?" I addressed Hermoine angrily. "If this thing turned me orange, I'll--"

"Ron." She nudged him, ignoring me. "Look."

He tried to shove her off. "This must be worth a fortune," he muttered, oblivious, staring at the Time-Turner. "Didn't we destroy all these a few years back at the Ministry, Harry?"

"Ron."

"--don't know why she'd give this to you, Em, no offense--"

"_Ron!_"

"Blimey, _what_, Hermoine?" He looked up and jumped, his chair scooting back several inches. "Blimey!" he repeated. "How'd you do that, Em?"

"Hold on, I'll get a mirror." Hermoine began rummaging through her purse. "It's here somewhere, I just saw it this morning--"

"Do what?" I asked Ron.

"You know." He gestured vaguely at me. "That."

"Great description, Ron, real specific." Impatience laced my words with sarcasm.

"Bloody fantastic," breathed Ron.

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Just look." Hermoine thrust her compact at me.

I opened it, staring into the mirror. Staring back at me was a young woman with almost translucent skin, much paler than my own, long blue-black hair, sharp features, and bright sapphire-blue eyes. Except for the eyes, the woman looked like a female version of Snape. My mouth dropped.

"I thought Metamorph-Medals were supposed to be a fraud," I said weakly.

"Evidently," Hermoine said, "not that one."

"Is she stuck like that or can she change again?" asked Ron.

I focused on the reflected, imagined the skin darker, the eyes softer--

"You look like Zabini!" Harry hissed. "How did you do that?"

"Incredible," Ron said. "And Snape gave this to you? He had it all this time?"

"I guess," I said, removing the medallion. "But if he bought this or found it, what does the S mean?"

The Trio glanced at me helplessly, which I took to mean a collective "I don't know".

* * *

"I almost forgot." I brought out my mother's journal and slid it across the table to Hermoine. "Look at this."

"It's a book," said Ron.

"I'm aware of that, but it's not just any book. It's my mum's journal from when she was in school. She filled it with different potion recipes."

"Your mum was a Potions nerd?" Ron's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"She was a Potions _genius_!" said Hermoine in a hushed tone, scanning the book hungrily.

Harry looked at Ron. "My mum was good at Potions!"

"Doesn't mean she wasn't a nerd, Harry," Ron said, shrugging.

"What do you mean, Hermoine?" I asked.

"These potions; they don't exist!"

"That doesn't automatically mean genius, Hermoine," Harry pointed out.

"In this instance, it does."

"How?"

"Isn't it _obvious_?" Hermoine scoffed. "Emma's mum _invented_ all of these potions!"

"_Really?_" asked Harry. "Give me that." He snatched the book from Hermoine. "An invisibility potion? She invented an invisibility potion?"

"Lasts for seven hours," I said, smiling out of pride.

"With a mum like that, how come you only got an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Potions?" asked Ron.

"Maybe because I ended up skipping half of Potions for Animagus training? Besides, I was always more of a Charms and Divination girl. I did a decent job in D.A.D.A., too..." I paused, took in their open mouths, and flinched. "Oops. I guess I did forget to tell you something."

"You lie _a lot_," said Hermoine weakly.

"No, I honestly just forgot! I'm sorry!"

"What do you turn into?" Ron asked in an excited tone.

"An owl."

His face fell. "Oh."

"Who taught you?" Harry questioned.

"Snape."

To my surprise, he smiled and shook his head. "You kept a lot from us, didn't you?"

"We all have our secrets." I smiled back.

"How much does Malfoy know?"

"About half."

"Does he know about Auror training?"

"Nope."

"Dementor?"

"Nope."

"The whole almost-dead thing?"

"Nope."

"Do you plan on telling him?"

I pretended to think it over. "Nope."

Harry blinked. "So, in September when training starts, what are you going to tell him? When you get cut or hurt and don't bleed, what are you going to tell him?"

I clasped and unclasped my hands. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

The time was 8:15 p.m.

* * *

3rd Person POV

At 8:20, Draco Malfoy was sitting against the headboard of his bed with a book in his hands. He heard a noise in the hallway and looked up, frowning.

"Emma?" he called.

No response. There was the sound of a door opening and closing. He got off the bed, went into the hall. There were noises from behind Blaise's bedroom door, just soft sounds. Whispers. Draco thought he recognized Emma's voice. He tested the door. It was unlocked. He opened it and his breath stopped.

Emma and Blaise were sitting on Blaise's bed, kissing. Emma broke away, looked toward the doorway. Blaise was scowling, and he pushed her off his lap onto the floor.

"Get the hell away from me," he growled.

Draco hadn't moved.

"Um, hi, Draco," said Emma from the floor.

Without a word, Draco left, slamming the door so hard behind him that the wood splintered. Blaise glared at her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he yelled.

Emma pouted. "That's my line. _You're_ the one who pushed me. A perfectly good girl is literally _on your lap_ and you shove her to the floor."

"That's because the 'perfectly good girl' was my best friend's girlfriend!"

"You enjoyed it, Zabini," she scoffed.

"Yeah, that's exactly why I shoved you. I was just _loving _it," Blaise said sarcastically. "Of all your bloody half-baked schemes, this is the most--"

"Brilliant?" She cackled, standing up. "Well-planned? Ingenious?"

"I was going to say 'greedy', 'underhanded', and 'cruel'."

"Sticks and stones, Zabini." She glanced into Blaise's vanity mirror and grimaced. "Unfortunately, I'm stuck in that stupid Ravenclaw's body for another forty-five minutes."

"Must be torture," he snapped.

"You have no idea." Her face twisted in disgust as she pulled at a strand of black hair. "I can't believe Draco's actually _attracted _to this ugly cow."

"He loves her!" Blaise seethed. "How could you do that to him, Parkinson?"

She smirked, hands on her hips. "I think you're confusing me with someone else, Zabini. I did nothing; Emma did. As far as Draco knows."

"What if I tell him?"

"He's not going to believe you anymore. After all, you were kissing his perfect little girlfriend." With another evil laugh and a small wave, she left his room.

"Cockroach!" he shouted after her. "You watch out, Parkinson! _I'm going to turn you into a cockroach for hurting him like this!_"

* * *

A/N: this is one of my shorter chapters, but hopefully it did the job.

you like? let me know!

**review! **^_^


	4. I Don't Have You and It Hurts

A/N: here you go!

you know what i was thinking a few minutes ago?

Emma has really grown. i just re-read the first chapter of Love Me or Hate Me and i was like "whoa. she's all grown up now!"

haha just a little random insight there.

* * *

I Don't Have You and It Hurts

Emma's POV

I crept slowly into the room, trying not to wake Draco, but I needn't have bothered. Draco's wand lit up the dark.

"Draco? What are you doing awake?"

His eyes were cold. "I want you out of my house."

"What?" My heart stuttered, jaw dropping.

"You can sleep in a guest room tonight, but I want you gone tomorrow morning."

"Why? What am I supposed to have done?" Forget stuttering. It had _stopped_.

His face scrunched in rage. "I have to _tell _you?"

"Yes, please, inform me," I said almost desperately, "of what I did to get you this pissed. Was it because I spent so much time with the Trio?"

"YOU KISSED BLAISE!" he roared.

_WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?! _I couldn't find my voice. Draco turned away from me in anger.

"I didn't kiss--" I said in a weak voice. What was going on?

"Don't even finish that sentence, Knight! I saw you! _I saw you!_"

"How could you have seen me? I just got home a few minutes ago!"

"Stop lying to me!"

"I'm not lying to you!" Tears sprung to my eyes. Too much. Too much for one day. "I don't understand!"

"Get out! OUT!"

* * *

3rd Person POV

Molly Weasley opened the door of the Burrow and blinked. A girl stood on the doorstep, soaked from the rain, with a suitcase next to her. Her shoulders shook and Molly realized she was crying.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," said the girl, sniffing.

"Emma?"

"Can I...Can I stay here for a while?"

* * *

"I'm going to kill him."

"You've said that ten times, Harry." Hermoine sighed. "No one's doing any killing."

"How could he do that to her?"

"We don't know the whole story, mate," said Ron. "We'll have to wait until she wakes up, and even then she might not want to talk about it just yet--"

"Can you think of even one reason, any reason, Malfoy could have that would justify him doing this to her?"

Ron opened and closed his mouth. "No. I can't."

* * *

Emma woke up from a dreamless sleep, the first dreamless sleep in over two years. Her whole body ached. Her chest was painfully tight. It hurt to breathe. As she remembered where she was and what had happened, she covered her face and cried.

* * *

When Emma came into the Burrow's kitchen, after sleeping until noon, Ron did a double take. She was wearing a ratty old T-shirt and loose-fitting shorts. Her short blonde-and-black hair stuck in different directions. He wasn't used to seeing her without makeup, either. Her eyes were dull as she surveyed the room. The girl he knew would have been extremely embarrassed to be seen in this state.

"She's taking it hard," murmured Ginny.

Hermoine jammed her elbow into Ginny's ribs and smiled widely at Emma from the kitchen table. "Morning, Em!"

Emma blinked, her face blank. "Oh. What are you and Harry doing here?"

"We're spending most of the summer here." Harry tried to follow Hermoine's example and grinned.

_Why are they smiling? Don't they know the world is wrong? Don't they know he left me? Don't they care?_

"That's cool," she said tonelessly.

"Um, are you okay?" asked Percy.

Emma just stared at him for a minute, then slowly shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes against the tears.

There was a scraping noise as someone stood from their chair. Arms wrapped around her and she was pulled into somebody. George Weasley held her firmly as she cried, then led her out of the kitchen. Harry stood as if to go after her, then slowly sank back into his seat.

* * *

It was late at night when George heard the sobbing. He'd been going downstairs to the kitchen to sneak a midnight snack, but heard someone crying behind the bathroom door. He knocked. The crying suddenly ceased.

"I know you're in there, Emma," said George.

"Don't come in!" came her panicked voice. "Don't!"

He opened the door. Emma sat on the bathroom floor, holding a sharp razor pinched between two fingers. Her face was tear-streaked, and she looked up at him with a sob as blood ran down her arms. His mind almost didn't register that the blood was thicker than it should be. That wasn't important right then.

"I can bleed," she murmured, almost to herself, staring down at the bloodied floor. "I just had to get deep enough."

"Bloody hell, Emma!" He ran to her, hugged her against him, covered her bleeding wrists with his hands. "Why would you do this? You'll die if you lose too much blood!"

She croaked out a watery laugh. "I can't die, George," she scoffed, crying.

He didn't ask what that meant. Instead, he repeated, "Why would you do this?"

"He was the only one who understood me and he threw me out," she sobbed, leaning into him.

Common sense returned, and he fumbled for his wand.

"Bullocks! Plenty of people understand you, Merlin, how deep did you cut!" He was rambling. "I need to get Mum--"

"No!" She clutched his arm and stared at him with terrified eyes. "Don't leave me!"

"It's only for a few minutes, I'm no good at healing spells, Emma--"

"You can't tell anyone, you just can't, you can't!"

"We need to stop the bleeding before you die!"

"I can't die, George!" she said again, louder, more desperately. "Don't tell them, please don't tell them! Look, the bleeding's stopping, it's stopping, don't tell them, _please_!"

She was right, the flow of blood was slowing. He looked at her in astonishment.

"What do you mean, you can't die?" he asked, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall. He pressed the towel to her left wrist, eyes momentarily glancing at the Dark Mark. He wiped the syrup-like blood from her pale skin, revealing a deep, grotesque rip. "Merlin, Emma," he groaned. "You virtually destroyed it. It's torn to shreds."

"I don't care, it doesn't matter," she said.

He cleaned the blood away from her right arm, then stared from the bloody towel to her two lacerated wrists.

"And I can't die, because I'm already dead."

He held her face in his hands. "You're just distressed, you don't know what you're saying--"

"I know exactly what I'm saying!" she snapped. "See? No one understands! I saved his life! His ungrateful life, after he betrayed me! I died for him!"

"Emma--"

"I'm a freak! I'm wrong!" cried Emma. "I...I came back. But I came back different. I came back _wrong_!"

"You're not wrong--"

"My heart beats slower than it should, I don't bleed, unless I get deep."

"You wouldn't bleed at all if you were dead."

"Maybe I'm not dead fully, I don't know! Maybe since my heart beats less, there's less blood and it only goes to certain vital places, _I don't know_!"

"Shh," he said, stroking her skin softly. "Calm down, it's alright."

"It's not alright! It will never be alright! He hates me, George, he hates me!" She sobbed again, took a shallow breath. "Can you just sit with me? Please? Just...Just sit with me?"

So he sat there, on the blood-soaked bathroom floor, until her cries quieted. Finally, she slept against his chest.

* * *

"You'll have to leave your room eventually, Draco." Blaise sat with his back against Malfoy's door. He had been there for hours, trying to get Draco out of his room. The teenage boy hadn't left since he'd kicked Emma out. "You have to eat. You don't have a mini-fridge in there, do you? And you'll need to perform normal everyday bodily functions. Unless you've got a chamber pot hidden somewhere in there as well."

Draco didn't say anything.

Pansy came up the steps from the kitchen, smirking, holding a cup of tea. "He's not going to listen to you, Blaise. So just quit trying."

Blaise glowered with such ferocity that she actually took a step back. "I don't recall asking for your advice, Cockroach," he snapped.

"Speaking of cockroach, you haven't followed through on your threat to turn me into one. Or was that threat just as empty as your head?" She sneered.

"I'm weighing my options," he said. "I could go with cockroach, or I could make you fat..." He looked her up and down. "Oops, too late, you beat me to it."

Her face went red. "You--"

"Yeah, me. Unfortunately, nothing I come up with is of equal punishment for what you did to Emma and Draco. When Emma comes back, oh Merlin, I almost pity you."

"I didn't do anything to Emma and Draco," she said loudly. "My, Blaise, stop the lie. Just own up to what you did."

She was saying this all for Draco's sake, knowing he was probably listening. Blaise had never wanted to hit someone so much in his life. His protectiveness of Draco was overruling not only his small remaining amount of dislike for Emma's heritage, but also a good portion of his common sense.

"Let me get one thing perfectly clear, Parkinson," he hissed nastily. "No matter how many twisted schemes you come up with, Draco _will never love you_."

She squatted down so she was looking in his eyes and whispered, "We'll see."

Then she walked away. Blaise waited a few minutes. "Draco?"

Silence. Blaise tried a different tactic. "I'm curious as to why you haven't kicked me out of the house like you did to Emma. You know, Emma Knight? You remember her, don't you? The girl you said you loved?"

There was a thump on the opposite side of the door. Draco had probably kicked it. Finally, a reaction.

"You're either afraid to be in the house alone with Parkinson, or you believe me when I say I wasn't snogging your girlfriend."

The door opened and Blaise, caught off guard, fell backwards. He blinked and suddenly Draco was standing over him. His wand was shoved at Blaise's face. Draco shouted something Blaise didn't quite catch and then everything went black. His last conscious thought was, _Something tells me he still doesn't believe me._

He woke up six hours later with a pounding headache and a face covered in boils.

* * *

Emma's POV

When the knock came at my door, I didn't move. I kept very still, inhaled very slowly. My wrists throbbed in time with my slow pulse. Bandages covered them. I could have healed them if I wanted, but the throb, the pain, was a welcome distraction from my thoughts. No one asked why my wrists were wrapped in gauze. I'm sure they were afraid of what I would say. The truth was, at that moment, I wanted to die. I wanted to be left alone so I could just fade away.

I wanted nothing more than to sink into the bed and disappear.

Ginny's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Get dressed, Emma. We've got places to go."

I said nothing.

"You can't spend your whole life moping in your room. You've been in there a week already."

She waited for a response that would never come.

"It's not the end of the world, Em." Ginny sighed. "Cheer up, will you? There are other guys out there."

Silence.

Frustrated, she said loudly, "George fancies you!"

George's voice joined hers. "Oi! Don't tell her that! Cheer her up a different way, Gin!"

The door opened. I assumed Ginny had unlocked it using magic. She grimaced, both at my appearance and probably at the wrist-bandages.

"Okay." She clapped her hands together. "I have a lot of work to do. Let's see. Makeup, cute outfit. You are going to look incredible; like this hasn't affected you at all."

"Why bother?" I asked finally. My voice cracked from lack of use.

"We're going to the Quidditch World Cup. You need to get out of the Burrow and I want to see the Holyhead Harpies. They're playing the Vratsa Vultures, it's going to be an amazing match, and I refuse to miss it because you're depressed."

"It's entirely possible for you to go without me." I winced. Too many words.

"If you don't go, Hermoine won't go, which means Ron won't go, which means Harry won't go," she said, tearing through my clothes drawer. "And if they don't go, Mum won't go. I am not spending the whole day at a Quidditch match with Dad and George and Prissy-Percy. Now, put on this skirt."

My nose wrinkled of it's own accord. "Why." My voice was flat, turning the question into a simple stated word.

"Just do it."

* * *

"The point of the skirt?"

I looked at Ginny. She was smiling. Hermoine grimaced on my behalf. She knew how much I hated skirts. She'd known ever since she made me wear that way-too-short green dress to the New Year's Ball sixth year when I was Draco's date--

Ow. Chest hurts.

_Don't cry. It'll smear your makeup and Gin will throw a fit._

I took a deep breath, ignoring the hole I felt.

"I just wanted to see George stare." Ginny laughed as George's ears burned.

"I did not stare," he said firmly, arms across his chest. "It's just a lot to take in when you're expecting something and instead get slammed with something else."

"What were you expecting? Sweats? A pair of Harry's boxers?" Ginny snorted.

Harry's cheeks tinged pink. "Why _my_ boxers?" he muttered.

She ignored him. "I was the one who dressed her, you really think I'd let her go out like that?"

"You dressed her like a clone of yourself," said Ron. "She doesn't look like Em at all."

"You don't think it looks nice?" demanded Ginny. She put her hands on her hips.

"It looks nice," Hermoine placated. "It just doesn't seem like Emma's style. She's more of a...skinny jeans and chucks kind of girl."

"She has to look like a knockout, so Malfoy knows what he missed out on."

I winced automatically at hearing the M word.

"She looks like a knockout without all the girly shit," George said.

Harry and Ron nodded their agreement. Ginny sighed. "Well, maybe the frilly tank top is a bit much..."

"It's pink," I said shortly. "I don't do pink."

More nods. With a scowl, Ginny led me back upstairs and let me change. The skirt, however, had to stay.

* * *

Twenty minutes and a much more comfortable light-grey V-neck shirt later, we arrived via Portkey at the location of the Quidditch World Cup. We walked toward the stadium, and I pulled Hermoine back with me, away from the rest.

"Are Ginny and Harry still..." I couldn't say the word. It made me think of Dra...that person.

"Dating?" Hermoine winced as she noted my pained expression. "Sorry. They're...complicated."

"Explanation?"

"Well...They were dating...They fight often, though..."

"About what?" It wasn't really my business to ask. But Harry was my friend. And damn it all if they didn't know every small detail about _my _life. The least they could do was tell me some things.

Hermoine fidgeted, looking a little uncomfortable. "Well, you, actually."

"Me?"

"Ginny thinks Harry isn't exactly...over you."

I just stared.

"Well, she thought he was. And then you showed up again..." Hermoine trailed off. "And now the situation with Mal--"

I shot her a look and she closed her mouth before the name escaped her lips. She sighed.

"You can't go your whole life avoiding it," she said. "You'll have to get over him eventually, and that won't happen if you keep this up."

"I love him." I felt the tears again.

"Loved. Past tense, Em."

I shook my head. "No, I still do, 'moine."

"Point is," she said quickly, changing the subject before I could start to cry again, "Ginny thinks Harry still likes you and since he's not exactly the best at relationships, he doesn't know how to handle it."

"Why was she being friendly to me? It's my fault." Too many words, too many words...I would have to figure out a way to shorten my sentences exponentially. The more I talked, the tighter my chest became, the harder it was to breathe.

"She doesn't blame you because she knows you aren't really interested in Harry. You're all torn up over..." She sighed again. "Besides, she probably thinks that when it's time to move on, you'll choose George instead of Harry."

I felt my face lightly burn. It caught me off guard. I wasn't seriously blushing, was I?

"Look, just try not to think about anything too much," she said. "Let's have a good time, forget about being hurt, okay?"

My fingers ghosted over the hidden Dark Mark on my arm. "Okay."

* * *

Draco's POV

When Pansy literally pulled me from my room after a week, I was a little annoyed to find that the rather painful skin condition I had given Blaise had already cleared up. I scowled.

"Cheer up, Draco," said Pansy happily. "We're going to the Quidditch World Cup!"

My scowl deepend. "No."

Her face falling, she whined, "But why?"

_I don't care about Quidditch. You think I'd actually care about Quidditch at this point?_

"Him." My eyes went to Blaise. His hair seemed more unkempt than it was before. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, a standing position I had never seen him in. Overall, his expression was serious and slightly cold.

He rolled his eyes at me. "I'm done, Malfoy. You don't believe me; that's your problem, not mine."

"The match is the Vultures against the Harpies," Pansy squeaked, trying to recapture my attention.

"So?" Was that supposed to entice me?

"Oh, just come, Draco. It'll be fun!"

When I couldn't think of a decent excuse, Pansy carted me off to the Quidditch World Cup. Pansy held my hand and, unable to come up with a reason not to, I allowed her. Blaise shot me a decidedly poisonous look, adding confusion to the cauldron of emotions in my head. The hours flew by, and I barely paid any attention to the match. When it was over, Pansy began ranting about how unfair it was for the Harpies to have won. Just as I was about to shut her up, she spotted something over my shoulder and said smugly, "Look, Draco, it's the whore."

I turned, and when I saw her, it was like a stack of bricks smashed into me. Her creamy pale legs seemed longer than they were in the short jean skirt. They grey shirt showed off the rosy tint of her cheeks. Her hair fell lightly around her heart-shaped face. Something stirred in my heart, and another part of my anatomy began to come to life as well. It was unbelievable that she could still affect my in this way. But it was her eyes that hit me hardest. Just as deep, they were startlingly dull. None of the old light was there. She looked as she had lying broken in the crisp white hospital bed. She looked broken.

I unconsciously smoothed my hair and took a moment to wonder how I looked to her. The Golden Trio stood beside her, the Weasley twin behind her, the girl by Harry.

"Look who's talking, Parkinson," snapped Ron.

"Oh, the Weasel boy's defending her. I'm so frightenend," Pansy sneered.

Emma didn't reply, her wide eyes riveted on me. The red-headed twin put his arm around her, squeezed her shoulder, and she turned away from me, leaned towards him. It was such an intimate action; I felt almost as if I was intruding on a private moment. A creature in me roared to life, demanding the Weasley boy's immediate disembowelment. Potter's eyes lowered to Pansy's hand linked through mine. He glowered.

"Lower your standards recently, Malfoy?"

My lip curled in distaste and the retort came before I could stop it. "I don't see how much lower one can go after Knight."

Her whole body flinched, and seeing how my response had hurt her ripped an unexpected hole in my core. The twin's hold on her tightened as he stared at me. He only looked cold, while the rest of them had expressions that showed just how basly they wished I would simply keel over. Potter whipped out his wand, aimed for my throat with a furious expression. I was quicker.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

"No!" Emma tore away from George and shoved Potter away. My shouted spell caught her on the arm, and she let out a wordless scream of pain as a long, deep gash opened up on the inside of her left wrist. Only then did I notice the thick, white gauze bandages. She clutched her wrist against her, looking at me with terrified eyes. _Hell._ This was hell. Seeing her, hurting her, having her be _afraid _of me, Merlin, it hurt so _much_. Why? Why did she get to have this much power over me even now? How was that fair? Blood oozed from between her fingers and another blow struck my heart. _Merlin._

"_Damn it, Malfoy_!"

I expected the shout to come from the Trio, or one of the two other Weasley's. Instead, I realized as Blaise pushed past me, that the sound had been from beside me. He sealed her wrist with his wand while the rest of us stared and then turned his angry eyes on me.

"You could have killed her!" he shouted.

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "You seem to care an awful lot."

"Shut the hell up, Pansy, this whole damn mess is your bloody fault--"

"You expect me to believe you?" I hissed. "You want me to believe that it wasn't you and Emma snogging on your bloody bed? Then explain why you suddenly care about her!"

"You should care about her too, you damn prat!"

"_Answer my question, Zabini!_"

"Just because I don't want Knight to die," he said through clenched teeth, "doesn't mean she cheated on you with me!"

Potter, who had been listening with a look of shock, said, "Wait, you pushed her out because you think she _cheated on you_?" His expression became fierce. "You ignorant _twat_!"

"I'm going to kick you in your twat if you interrupt again, Potter!" I snapped.

"I'm sorry to inform you of this, Malfoy, but seeing as I am a guy, I do not have one of those."

I growled. Blaise glared at me. "I'm not putting up with this," he said. "Think what you want, Malfoy. When your common sense returns, send me an owl."

He stormed away. Pansy laughed snottily.

"Like we need him," she said. "Let's leave these losers, Draco."

* * *

George's POV

She barely held it back while he walked away. He wasn't more than ten feet from us before she broke down crying. I wrapped my arms around her, where she fit so perfectly against my chest, her head buried against my neck. I felt like she belonged here, but I knew how she felt for Malfoy. I knew I would never get the love she had given him. But when she looked up at me, her eyes puffy but still that deep, beautiful shade of green, I let myself hope someday I'd get her to feel some small amount of love for me. I smoothed her hair away from her forehead and smiled, cracking a simple joke about her tears getting my shirt wet. I could see her struggling not to laugh, but eventually she gave in. Still, it was nearly two hours before she was completely calm again, and another two hours before Harry looked at her and awkwardly asked, "Um, so how is it that you can suddenly bleed?"

* * *

3rd Person POV

The tall, dark figure in the Foe-Glass was getting clearer; meaning her enemy was closer.

* * *

"Have you had any dreams lately?" asked Hermoine.

Emma stared down at the toast she hadn't touched. It felt like weeks since she'd eaten, and in fact it had, yet she had no appetite. "I don't get dreams anymore. The visions just come randomly." She looked up. "That reminds me. Ron, shift to your left a little."

Confused, he did as she said, Crookshanks suddenly lept onto the cabinet directly behind Ron's chair, knocking over a ceramin container. It crashed to the floor and shattered, missing Ron by centimeters. Looking slightly pale, Ron went back to his breakfast.

"Oh, and Harry?"

The boy with the scar glanced up. She nibbled at a piece of toast half-heartedly before setting it back on the plate and pushing it away. She met his eyes.

"If I were you, I'd avoid using anything sharp for a few days."

Harry gulped visibly as Emma picked up her issue of _Quibbler_ and began to read an article on Wrackspurts.

* * *

"Hermoine tells me your visions are stronger." George smiled.

"Yeah, they are." Emma couldn't help but smile back.

They were sitting on the couch, her back against the arm, knees pulled up against her chest. He leaned forward slightly.

"Tell me, oh great Seer," he said jokingly. "Did you see _this _coming?"

He pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes flitted closed, and remained closed even when she pulled away. She opened her eyes slowly, keeping them downcast, and bit her lip.

"No," she admitted. "I didn't."

He lifted her chin. "I'm not Malfoy."

She blinked in surprise, then cleared her throat quietly. "I know."

"I will never be Malfoy."

"Yeah. I know."

George nodded, then bent his head and kissed her again.

* * *

He was quite clear now. If it wasn't for the hood, she probably could have been able to tell who it was. Though she could see every detail of the long cloak he wore, his back was turned away from her and the hood was up. She set the Foe-Glass back on her dresser and sighed.

* * *

"I don't want to hurt you," she said.

"I know."

"I don't know how much I can give you. I loved him and even then I was only able to give him half--"

"I know."

"And you still want to try?"

George smiled and kissed her forehead. "Yes, Emma, you dummy. I still want to try."

* * *

Scowling, Lucius Malfoy approached his manor. He'd arrived home from Scotland a month earlier than planned, and he was not happy about it. The deal had not gone well. His plan, still in its early stages, was already failing. This was not a good start. With a sigh, he opened the front door and stepped inside.

* * *

A/N: wow. these are much shorter than they were when i first started.

but then again, quality not quantity, right?

**review_. _**please and thank you.


	5. Make Me Believe

A/N: hopefully this is worth the wait!

* * *

Make Me Believe

"Hey, sweetie," said George, putting his hand on the small of her back. The touch was firm but light and contained none of the possessiveness Emma had come to expect from her ex-boyfriend--and first love--Draco Malfoy. "What are you doing?"

"Hi." She smiled and turned her head expectantly, out of habit. He gave her a peck on the lips and she looked back down at the bubbling cauldron in front of her. "Working on this potion my mom started."

He looked over her shoulder, his soft red hair tickling her cheek, and her smile grew slightly. In three days, their relationship had sailed faster than she was normally comfortable with. There were, after all, none of the same things holding her back as had happened with Draco. There was no reason why she shouldn't love George. He knew her secrets, had seen her at her absolute worst; Draco had believed her capable of cheating on him.

"What does it do?" George's hand slipped comfortably into the front pocket of her jeans. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"She was trying to create an All-Healer, something that cured not only all poisons, but all injuries," she said, "but there's an ingredient she missed. I haven't been able to figure it out yet."

"I have faith. You'll figure it out soon." He kissed her cheek, gave her a squeeze, and went to leave. "Oh, and don't forget about the Weasley family Quidditch game. Bill and Charlie are going to be here."

"Okay. I get to be Beater, right?" She inspected the bubbling light blue liquid.

"Of course. You get to be my partner."

She turned in time to catch his wink, and then returned her attention to the cauldron.

* * *

Draco laid on the carpet, his jaw sore. His father glared down at him with a look of disgust.

"You are my son," he growled. "You will do as I say!"

"Why does she have to be involved in this?" Draco coughed. His side burned; he could recognize a broken rib when he felt one.

"Because, Draco, I need her abilities. Without her powers, the whole operation is threatened--"

"If you take her, Potter will stop at nothing until you are rotting away in Azkaban." Draco mustered his dignity, ignoring the pain, determined not to cry. This was not the first time he had attempted to stand up to his father and gotten punished for it, but it was the first time where he meant what he said with such a passion that he could actually handle the abuse his father dealt.

Lucius's eyes glinted maliciously. "Whatever it takes, Draco. If it is necessary to go to prison for the Dark Lord, then I shall."

"You're terrified of Azkaban," Draco spat, calling Lucius's bluff. "You've always done anything you could to avoid prison--"

Lucius struck his son angrily. Draco spit blood onto the floor and yelled, "Voldemort's dead, Father! He can't be revived, Potter killed him. Just give it up already!"

"That filthy half-blood has deluded you." Lucius's face was contorted. "A few short months with a wretched girl and you've abandoned all your beliefs!"

"They were never my beliefs, Father! They were yours!"

"Don't talk back to me! _Crucio!_"

As Draco writhed, his father took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his tone was more calm.

"You will bring her to me, Draco."

"She doesn't have anything to do with me anymore--"

"_Crucio!_ Stop interrupting!" He cleared his throat.

Draco panted, soaked in sweat. He knew that he would obey his father. Not for the sake of ending the torture. His intense love, no, _need_ for a family, for belonging, would eventually rule out anything he felt for Knight. He would have no choice but to obey his father, because he loved his family. Family came before girlfriends, ex or not.

"You will bring her to me," Lucius breathed. "With her in my arsenal, I will become the new Dark Lord!"

* * *

"Okay, so 'ere are ze teams," said Fleur, holding a list. " 'arry, Ron, George, and Emma against my Bill," she smiled at him, "Charlie, Percy, and Ginny."

George grinned. "Ha! We get Harry!"

"Why do I have to be on Percy's team?" Ginny complained, groaning.

"Ees everyone ready?" asked Fleur, who was, evidently, going to be playing referee.

"Wait, we're missing a team member," Harry called. He glanced around. "Anyone know where Emma is?"

"I 'ave not met 'er," Fleur said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "What ees she like?"

"I haven't met her either," said Bill with a chuckle, "but she can't be all that bright if she's going out with George."

"Hey!" George glared at him. "She's plenty bright! Brilliant, actually."

"Hermoine-level brilliant?" Charlie asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ron snorted. "Please. No one's Hermoine-level brilliant, Charlie."

Hermoine blushed.

"Emma is a potion-inventor," said George proudly.

"Admittedly, about half of the potions she invented were invented on accident," murmured Ron. "I don't know if that qualifies as brilliance, I call it sheer dumb luck--"

"Ees she pretty at least? You don't need to 'ave brains eef you 'ave beauty."

Ginny glowered. "You would know," she muttered.

Bill shot her a look, but Fleur appeared to have not heard.

"Well?" asked Charlie expectantly. "Valid question. Is she pretty, George?"

George turned a delicate shade of pink. "She..."

"George!" Emma ran up to him, not noticing the others, her cheeks a healthy rose color. She was grinning widely, panting a little from running. "Oh, George, guess what?"

"Hey," he said, relief evident in his voice. "Good timing, we need to start the match soon."

Her face went blank. "What? Oh, right, Quidditch. Never mind that for a moment, George. Look at this!"

She thrust a glass bottle at him with an ecstatic expression.

"Wow, fantastic!"

She searched his eyes. "You have no idea what this is, do you?"

"Not a clue."

She laughed. "I was trying to make an All-Healer, remember?"

"Did you figure out the missing ingredient?" A smile lit up his face at her laugh.

"No, but I created this entirely by accident. Drink it!"

"What?" He stared at her in disbelief.

"Come on," she begged. "Please? You weren't afraid to test your joke shop pranks on yourself."

"That's different!" George protested.

She stepped closer to him, tugging on his belt loops with a playful smile. "Please?"

"Don't do that," he said hurriedly. This was unlike her. "My whole family is right here."

"Drink the potion and I'll stop." She kissed the corner of his mouth, lingering.

"Okay, fine, I'll drink it." He swiped the bottle from her hand and downed the pastel blue contents. "Now, what did I just drink?"

"Invincibility Potion! I drank it, too Now, watch!" She reached into her pocket and drew out a penknife. "Don't worry," she said as his eyes widened, "it's perfectly safe."

She put the knife to the flesh of his arm and pushed, hard. George watched in amazement. Instead of cutting him, the blade of the knife bent. She held it up with a look of triumph. "See?"

"That's amazing," he admitted. "But where did the..." He gestured. "...sexiness come from?"

"What, I wasn't sexy before?"

"You weren't manipulatively sexy."

"I think a side effect of the potion is a spike in confidence. Oh, and hyperactivity. But that just might be me." She rubbed her hands together, grinning. "Who's ready to play Quidditch?"

George laughed. "Hold on just a minute. You have to meet the rest of the family, also known as our competition." He put his hand on her waist. "Emma, this is Charlie, Bill, and Bill's wife, Fleur. Guys, Fleur, this is my girlfriend, Emma Knight."

Fleur rushed forward, planting a kiss on both of the girl's cheeks.

"Eet ees so nice to meet you!" she said. "You are not as pretty as I would 'ave thought, but there ees nothing wrong with being plain."

Emma forced a smile. "Of course. Just like there's nothing wrong with being stupid." She patted Fleur's shoulder.

Clueless, Fleur grinned and turned to Ginny triumphantly. "You see? She even agrees!"

Laughing, Charlie said, "I like her, George. Well done." He added in a stage whisper to Emma, "Don't worry, you're plenty pretty. Ignore Fleur."

* * *

"I got this one," said Emma with a wide smile.

She hit the Bludger fiercely, and it zoomed towards Charlie. He had to drop several feet in order to not get hit. Harry flew ahead; Charlie had been chasing the Snitch, and how now lost sight of it. George flew past her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

From the ground, Hermoine watched Ron protect the goal from Ginny, but her eyes kept being drawn to Emma. There was something strangely...off about her.

* * *

"Didja see me?" asked Emma excitedly.

Hermoine grabbed Emma's arm. "Come with me."

"Hey! Leggo! What's going on?" She pouted.

"We need to talk."

Hermoine dragged her to her room, shoved her in, and closed the door.

"What are these?" Hermoine pointed to a large number of empty bottles on Emma's bed.

"Nothing. You think I'm doing something bad, don't you?" Emma's eyes flashed angrily.

"Emma, relax. Just tell me what they are. You're not in trouble."

Emma wrung her hands together in a sudden bout of nervousness. "Potion bottles."

"Did you _drink _all of these?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." She giggled. "I created them! To keep myself under control for the Quidditch match."

"_Emotion_ potions?" Hermoine's jaw dropped. "You drank this many emotion potions at the same time?"

"Well, I tried to, to, shove them all together," said Emma excitedly, gesturing with her hands. "It didn't really work. So I had to make them separately. One to get rid of sadness, one to control anger, one for added happiness..." She sniffed, anguish invading her expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do."

"Oh, Em. All of those potions..." Hermoine sighed. "Your emotions are all out of whack. You took too many."

"Don't judge me!" Anger returned.

"Emma, Emma..." Hermoine enveloped the girl in a hug. "You're a mess, aren't you?"

"George is fabulous," Emma sobbed. "He's amazing and handsome and he cares so much about me. So why do I still love Draco?"

Hermoine rubbed her back comfortingly. "It's only been two weeks, Em. Give it time."

"I'm hurting him, 'moine. I don't want to hurt him."

"I know, Em. I know."

* * *

"I'm glad you've decided to take me up on my offer, Miss Knight." Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled at her.

Emma smiled back, albeit a little forced. "I'm happy you're willing to allow me to train."

"Now, there's only one thing to discuss. I am aware that during your sixth year, you left and returned, unconscious, two weeks later. It's my duty as Minister to ask why."

Her face hardened.

"It may be painful for you to--"

"I don't remember," she said. _And you would arrest me if I told you._

_

* * *

_"How'd it go with Kingsley?" asked Harry. He glanced up at Emma from the kitchen table. He and Ron were helping her with potion-creating. She had spent nearly every waking moment in front of her cauldron, and this was the only way they could talk.

"D'ya think I should add the jobberknoll feathers as is, or try cutting them?" Ron stared in confusion at the table of potion ingredients.

"Uh, I don't think you cut feathers, Ron. And I told you that jobberknoll is for truth potions. _Phoenix_ is for invisibility." Emma pointed to the shimmering red feathers.

"I knew that," Ron said. The tips of his ears went pink. "You've just got so many ingredients..."

"The Minister only wanted to talk about that incident sixth year," Emma told Harry, bent over her mother's journal.

Hermoine, sitting in a corner, rereading _A History of Magic_, glanced up sharply. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

Emma snorted. "No. How stupid do you think I am?" She turned, overturning a bottle of fairy dust into the cauldron. It exploded in a shower of sparks, and Emma disappeared in a thick black cloud.

"Em! Are you okay?"

Emma coughed, waving away the cloud. She was covered in a thick black powder. She wiped at her eyes, trying to rid her vision of the stuff. She sputtered.

"Oh, _God_!"

Hermoine was on her feet. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It got in my _mouth_! Ugh!" She wiped furiously at her tongue, but only succeeded in spreading it more thickly. "It tastes like I licked the side of a building!"

Ron was the only one who seemed amused. "How do you know what the side of a building tastes like?"

Hermoine and Harry tried to hold back their grins and failed. Hermoine looked sheepish.

"Very funny," Emma grumbled. "I'll laugh when this gunk is off me." She rubbed again at her mouth. "Clean this off me, 'moine--Whoa!"

She flailed her arms as she suddenly found herself about six inches off the ground and rising.

"Am I levitating?" she asked, pointing to the floor. "Someone tell me I'm levitating!"

Hermoine started to gasp, holding onto Ron's arm, who laughed and said, "You're levitating!"

"Yes!" She thrust her fists in the air and wobbled dangerously.

"I thought you were making a longer-lasting invisibility potion," said Harry.

"I was." Emma grinned. "But this is way cool. I love when things happen on accident."

"Emma," said Hermoine suddenly. "If you keep floating up like that, you're going to--"

"Ouch!"

Hermoine winced. "Hit the ceiling."

George came into the room, hands in his pockets. "I heard an explosion and came to see how the potion-making's going." He blinked and looked around. "Er, Harry, where's my girlfriend?"

"Up here, George."

He looked up and Emma, floating, waved.

"Oi," he said. "How's the weather up there?"

Ron groaned. "Come on, George. That was weak, even for you."

George sighed, shrugging. "What do you want from me? Just be thankful she's not wearing a skirt."

Harry coughed. "Yes, er, um, how do we get her down?"

"Try using your wand to clean this gross crap off of me." Emma winced. "It's sticky."

Hermoine flicked her wand, but Ron came to a realization. "Won't she just fall?"

By that point, however, Hermoine's wand had siphoned off the last of the exploded potion and Emma fell right into George's arms. She landed unceremoniously, smiling at the Weasley holding her after she caught her breath. She kissed him softly as the Trio looked away with slight embarrassment. When they looked back, Emma was upright again.

"I don't think you planned that," said George to Hermoine, "but I'm going to say thank you anyway."

He winked at Emma and left. She turned to the Trio and cleared her throat.

"So." She rubbed her hands together.

"I guess you didn't love him as much as you thought," said a pink-cheeked Ron.

Emma's smile fell from her face. "Excuse me?"

"Malfoy, I mean," Ron clarified.

Hermoine tried to intervene, when George suddenly burst in from the front room.

"Blaise Zabini is at the front door," he said, "and he wants to talk with Emma."

* * *

Blaise's POV

This had to be the worst bloody idea I've ever had. Staring at the door that had moments before been slammed in my face by a Weasley, I debated whether I should call the whole thing off and leave before Knight had a chance to injure me.

A loud voice came, slightly muffled, from the other side of the door.

"_No_, I don't want to _talk to him_, George!"

I pounded on the door. My rational mind screamed at me to get the hell away from this filthy blood-traitor house, but I ignored it. This had to be done.

"Knight! I know you're there."

Silence. A bit of struggling, and then I heard her yell, "Do _not _touch that door!"

"I'm coming in," I called.

"Go away!" she retaliated.

I sighed. Had to be done, had to be done..."_Expulso!_"

The door blew.

* * *

Emma's POV

That pompous, self-absorbed little--I pushed George away as he reached toward the handle.

"I'm coming in," came Blaise's voice.

"Bloody hell, Emma, let him in," hissed George.

"Go away!" I shouted back. To George, I said, "I will _not_ let him in. He's a no-good prick who takes joy in taunting me, why would I--"

"_Expulso!_"

The door exploded, splinters of wood flying everywhere. Hermoine gave a little scream and I heard the rest of the house come running down the steps. When Blaise stepped into the Burrow, nine wands were pointed right at him. Fleur and Bill had vanished off somewhere, but there stood Charlie on the stairs next to Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny took her place by the Trio. Harry yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_" and Blaise's wand flew out of hand.

He didn't acknowledge them at all. He stumbled back, holding his nose. After a few seconds, anger covered shock and he growled, "If you break my nose--"

"Oh, yes, it's a horrible day when someone marks up that beautiful face," quipped Ginny.

I didn't say anything, just drew my wand, aimed it carefully, and took deep breaths.

He waited, probably to see if I'd hit him again. Then he began again. "Knight. A word?"

"Here's a word: Leave." My wand hand was shaking.

"Just listen--"

"No, _you_ listen. Who do you think you are?" He opened his mouth to speak and I pressed the tip of my wand into his neck. "Rhetorical question, Zabini. You must think you're so damn smart. You and Pansy. Planning to break me and Malfoy up by making him think I was cheating. Backfired, though, didn't it? You didn't think he'd turn on you, too, huh? It didn't even occur to you for a second!"

"Now you hold on." He straightened his back, towering over me. "I wasn't in on that."

Anger flooded through me. "You expect me to believe that me? You never liked me. I'm a half-blood. I'm below you. I'm below Malfoy. That's what you think, isn't it?"

"That's not--"

"don't lie to me!" I felt like crying, but realized I had no tears. "I'm _sick _of being lied to!"

"Yes," he said. His face was a mask of stone. "That's what I thought. Until I saw how much he cared for you."

"He must have cared an awful lot," grumbled Harry sarcastically. "He certainly abandoned her quickly enough."

"What do you want, Zabini?" I asked.

"I want you to know the truth."

"About what?"

"Put the wand away first."

I stowed the wand and tried to calm my shaking hand.

He glanced at the others for the first time. "Theirs, too."

"Not until you tell me what this is about." I glared.

"Merlin's beard, Knight, I haven't got a wand! What do you think I'm going to do?"

I looked into his angry face and saw the emotions I expected: loathing, contempt, self-importance. Urgency. I sighed.

"Why do you care if I know or not?"

Zabini barked out a laugh. "This isn't really for you, Knight. It's for Draco."

* * *

I should have kicked him out right then. If you're wondering why I didn't, I couldn't tell you; I don't know.

"You have that Time-Turner, right?" Zabini leaned forward in his chair.

I nodded shortly. "Why?"

"Good." He wrote something down and slid it across the table. "Go back in time to this date. Use an Invisibility Cloak or something, I've heard Potter's got one of those. You'll understand completely once you get there. Be in my room of Malfoy Manor by eight." He stood. "Oh, and, don't let anyone see you."

"I though that much was obvious after the tip about the cloak," I said dryly.

He smirked, classic Blaise. "Well, once you go back, you'll be stuck. You'll have to wait it out until you reach the moment you turned back time." He paused for a moment, then continued, "I've never used one myself, but apparently it's terribly complicated."

I blinked. "So, wait a minute. That happened a month ago. I'm going to have to wait a month once I get there?"

He nodded, smiled, and said, "Have fun."

Blaise walked out of the kitchen, pocketing his wand. I followed him to the front door. "Wait, that's it?"

"That's it."

"You blew up the front door for _this_?!"

Blaise just chuckled. "You'll understand. Later, Knight."

He turned, Disapparated, and was gone. I sighed, rubbing my temples.

"_Reparo_," I murmured to the chunks of wood on the floor. The door fixed itself. "Alright," I said louder. "You guys can come out now. I know you heard everything."

George, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermoine all came downstairs, Ron gazing at me guiltily and holding an Extendable Ear.

"Are you going to do it?" asked Hermoine quietly. "Go back in time?"

"Do I really have a choice, 'moine?"

"You can borrow my cloak," said Harry.

I shook my head. "I'll just make a really big batch of my mom's invisibility potion." I took another deep breath.

"What are you going to do for a whole month?" Ron was staring like I'd sprouted wings.

"I don't know. Read?" I joked hollowly. "I'll only be gone a few seconds to you guys."

I slipped my hand into George's and squeezed. "I'll be fine. I promise."

* * *

Downstairs, the Malfoy's magic grandfather clock struck eight. I sat, invisible, in a corner of Zabini's room, waiting for something to happen. Somewhere around 8:10, Blaise entered, and, somewhere around 8:15, I came face to face with myself.

_There is no way that is me._

Apparently, Blaise thought so too, because he looked at her in confusion and said, "Emma?"

_Since when does he call me by my first name?_

"Hi, Blaise," purred the girl who looked like, but couldn't be, me.

_Wait a minute, I don't _purr_!_

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you...When did you get back?"

"Just now." The girl smiled, taking a step toward him.

"Have you spoken to Draco already?"

She pouted. "Let's not talk about Draco. Let's talk about us."

Blaise's eyes widened fractionally. "Us?"

She took another step, and he stepped back. His knees hit the bed and he fell back into a sitting position. As she neared him, his expression suddenly evened out.

"Pansy," he said. "So this is your plan."

The pout became a scowl. "You figured it out already?"

"Knight doesn't talk like that," he snapped.

"Only a minute ago, she was 'Emma'. You're no fun, Zabini. And with Draco only moments away. Oh well." She pulled out her wand. "Luckily, I planned for this. _Imperio_." She settled herself on his lap and, with a smirk, said, "I'm not as dumb as you think I am. Now, kiss me."

The Unforgivable Curse set in and Blaise had no choice but to obey, right as Draco opened the door. I froze at the look of raw pain on his face. As Pansy, disguised as me, looked up, she lost her hold on the curse. Blaise shoved her to the floor with a disgusted look. I watched in horror at the scene that unfolded, the same sentence on repeat in my mind.

_That bitch. That goddamn bitch._

_

* * *

_A/N: the next chapter digs into the good stuff.

:]

**review. **please and thank you! ^_^


	6. Watching You

A/N: if you remember, Emma is still trapped a month back in time. here's the next installment!

:]

* * *

Watching You

I hid myself away in an empty guest room, where I stayed for nearly a week, downing bottle after bottle of invisibility potion. My inner monster screamed for Pansy's death and for Draco's beheading. How _dare_ he not believe me?

My stomach growled. I kept my wand handy in case someone opened the door, but I went undisturbed. I didn't know how I would last a month of this. Nothing was happening. Blaise and Pansy fought constantly, and Draco was always just locked in his room. I traced patterns in the air with the tip of my wand and waited for them to leave for the Quidditch World Cup so I could sneak some food.

* * *

Invisible, I watched as Lucius and Narcissa arrived home from Scotland. Lucius looked none too pleased, and Narcissa seemed paler than usual.

"Don't," she said to her husband. "Lucius, don't start this. You know what it's done to our family--"

"I didn't start this, Narcissa," spoke Malfoy sharply. "I'm finishing it. Now, where is my son? I have something important to discuss with him."

Narcissa gave a little wail and fled to the kitchen. Intrigued, I followed Lucius.

* * *

Damn my reflexes!

I sat outside the door to Lucius's study. I hadn't been able to slip through before Draco closed it behind him, and Lucius had cast a Silencing Charm. I couldn't hear a thing.

* * *

Draco came out of the study looking shaken, his hair mussed, and a rather nasty bruise on his cheek. I sat up straighter. Lucius, that evil bastard! He was beating his only son! Draco kept a firm chin, but I had a feeling he'd cry soon. Draco wasn't exactly the toughest nail in the shed. He got quite emotional about things, actually--Oh!

I slipped in before the door closed, hoping to hear Lucius talk some more about whatever it was he had planned. Soon after I snuck in, however, Lucius put out the fire and headed off to bed.

* * *

_I can't take much more of this, _I thought. _If something doesn't happen soon, I'll explode._

_

* * *

_Two weeks, two days. I groaned inwardly. Only one more week to go.

I had been tailing Lucius for days, but he never went anywhere interesting, never talked to anyone. Every night, he fought with Draco, but I always ended up on the wrong side of a locked and spelled door. Now, as I followed him through an alley, my exasperation and impatience were making it harder for me to stay hidden. Not paying attention, I knocked over a garbage can and froze. Lucius spun around. Shit. Still safely see-through, I waited it out until he gave the alley a once-over and resumed walking.

He ducked into an abandoned warehouse and I could have jumped for joy. I followed him inside, where a group of men sat around a table. I recognized none of them

"So glad you could all come." Malfoy smiled venomously.

A man with a long hooked nose, who sat nearest Malfoy, lifted his chin and said, "Why did you reschedule the meeting, Lucius?"

"I had a feeling I was being followed, Prell." He took the only remaining empty seat at the head of the table and surveyed the men.

_Damn, I'm that obvious?_

"We're all aware why we are here, gentlemen?" asked Malfoy, raising a blonde eyebrow. There were collective nods. "Good. Now, down to business."

"Wait," said another man, a broad-shouldered guy with dark hair. "Why are you the one in charge, Malfoy?"

"I called the meeting."

The broad guy snorted. "That's the only reason? I don't see why we should listen to you. You and your wife betrayed the Dark Lord and sucked up to the Potter boy so you wouldn't have to spend time in Azkaban."

There were about twenty in all, and several nodded their agreement.

A grey-faced man stood. "Yeah, what puts you in charge, Malfoy?"

"Sit down, Berings," said Malfoy calmly. "The reason I am in charge is because I am the only one here with the Dark Lord's mark. Plus, I'm the one with a plan."

"We've all seen how well your plans go," sneered the broad man. "Your last plan ended in disaster. You were beaten by _teenagers_ and captured!" He laughed.

"Do _you _have a plan, Evern?" I could see a vein pulsing in Malfoy's neck, but he was keeping his cool remarkably well.

The man, Evern, abruptly stopped laughing. Malfoy sat back in his seat with a smug look.

"Whatever your plan is," said Evern in a grouchy tone, "what makes you think you won't just get thwarted by Potter again?"

Malfoy smirked. "I have a Seer on my side."

Silence settled. Evern's eyebrows were raised, an impressed expression on his face.

_A Seer? How'd he get a Seer? _My mind was racing, so much so that I nearly missed Prell saying, "Still, Malfoy. Infiltrating the Ministry at this point would be foolhardy. We have but twenty while the Minister has been stocking up on new Auror recruits--"

"Exactly." Malfoy chuckled. "It's so simple, really. With the Dark Lord gone forever, security within the Ministry has diminished. The fools feel safe. And with so many new recruits, the Auror Training Academy has had to double the number of instructors, taking even more Aurors away from the Ministry." His eyes took on a confident gleam. "Now is the perfect time to launch an attack."

"What for?" asked Berings. "The Dark Lord is gone, dead. If the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time would not cheat death, what chance do we have? What do we even stand for anymore?"

Malfoy's expression shifted angrily as he pulled up his sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark. "This is what we stand for. Everything our master taught us. Are we really going to sit back and let an _untalented teenage boy_ get away with defeating us?"

Cheers rang up from the table as I stared in muted shock. _You two-faced git_, I thought. _You were scared to death of Voldemort when he was alive and now all of a sudden you're trying to take his place? Spineless jellyfish!_

My head reeled as I realized something. _Oh hell. _He was going to attack the Ministry.

* * *

I rushed into the Burrow. Finally! Three weeks, two days. I was back where I needed to be.

"Harry!" I banged on his door, then ran down the hall. "Ron! Hermoine!"

Hermoine opened her door, yawning. "Emma? Is that you? What's going on, it's five in the morning."

I was already back at Harry's door. "Harry! You'll never believe what happened! So, I went back in time as you know, I've been stuck waiting out a month. God, I was going to shoot myself, but you'll never guess--"

I stopped. Harry was staring right at me, but his eyes weren't focused. I waved my hand in front of his face. It didn't even register. He looked at Ron, who had also emerged from his room.

"Ron," he said slowly. "Are you hearing Emma's voice too?"

Confused, Ron nodded. Harry glanced at Hermoine, rubbed the corner of his eye and asked her, " 'moine, what's going on?"

"What do you mean 'what's going on'?" I demanded. "I'm right here, you twit."

Harry blinked. He swiped his hand at me.

"Ouch!" I held my hand against my temple.

He looked startled at having hit me. "Emma?"

"_Yes_," I said exasperatedly. "What am I, invisible?"

"Um, actually, Em, yeah, you are."

I felt the color drain from my face. "_What?!_"

"Relax, we'll just wait until the invisibility potion wears off--"

"That's just it," I said weakly. "The last potion I took should have worn off about two hours ago."

* * *

Hermoine paced the length of my room incessantly, having ushered me and the two boys inside before anyone else woke up. Mrs. Weasley, I knew, would have a heart attack.

"This is what you get for experimenting with potions on yourself."

I stared at her, indignant, forgetting again that she couldn't see me. "Who else am I going to test them on? I can't do that to you guys."

"But you can, apparently, easily do it to yourself!" she exclaimed. "What happens if this is permanent, Em?"

"Aren't you cheery this morning," said Ron. "It's not permanent, Hermoine--"

"We don't know that yet, Ron."

Spluttering, I said falteringly, "Well, it can't be permanent, Hermoine, my mum would have mentioned it in the book somewhere--"

"Would she?" Hermoine demanded, spinning on her heel to glare in my general direction. "She wasn't perfect, you know! She could have forgotten to write it down or the ink could have faded..."

"I know she wasn't perfect!" My fist balled up, rumpling the sheets of my bed where I sat. "If she was perfect, she wouldn't have _died_!"

My response was met with silence. I tried to breathe deeply but my nerves were too fried.

"Emma, I'm sor--" began Hermoine miserably.

I held my hand up to stop her, realized yet again that she could not see me, and threw a pillow instead. "If I hear one more apology, I might scream. I've had enough for the rest of my life. Seriously, Hermoine, _never mind_," I said firmly as she opened her mouth again. "We've got more important things to worry about."

* * *

A/N: again with the shortness. i'm sorry. school starts tomorrow and i won't have as much time to write. just warning.

please **review.**


	7. New Headquarters

A/N: sorry this took so long. the ideas for my other story, The Novelist in the Lab have been pouring out, and i haven't had as much time to work on this one.

plus, school started and i've had practice and i've barely gotten an hour a day on the computer in the last week. seriously, i've been getting home at like, 10 every night.

but enough of my excuses. i hope this is a good chapter for you all!

* * *

New Headquarters

When I was done speaking, Harry paced my room angrily. Hermoine was leaning heavily on Ron, who wore an "I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-again" look.

"Relax, Harry," I said. "We know his plan, we can stop him."

"Yes," agreed Hermoine with conviction. "We can stop him." Her eyes lit up. "Oh! We can go to the Minister, tell Kingsley about Lucius's plan--"

"You think he's going to believe us?" demanded Harry.

"Wh...Why wouldn't he?" Hermoine's brow furrowed as doubt invaded her expression.

"You were right about Voldemort," I said. "And Kingsley's not a pompous jerk like Scrimgeour, and he's certainly not as cowardly as Fudge. Surely, if I just explain what I heard--"

"No!" Hermoine flew forward, towards where my voice was. "No! I'll tell him, I-I'll say I heard it--"

"Hermoine, it'll be more convincing if I--"

"You can't do that, Emma! They'll arrest you!"

"What?"

"Using Time-Turners outside of Hogwarts is _illegal_, remember? And you're supposed to alert the Ministry when you borrow one--"

"I'm willing to bet Tonks never even told the Order she had a Time-Turner," said Ron. "That makes it, what, doubly-illegal?"

I put my head in my hands. "Is there _anything_ I've done in that last four years that _isn't _illegal?!"

As it was an obvious rhetorical question, no one said anything for a long while. I fidgeted, my mind slowly sifting through the list of potion ingredients I'd taken it upon myself to memorize. Nothing I came up with could help me become visible again.

"So, what do we do?" asked Ron, breaking the silence. "We can't just do nothing."

An idea suddenly popped into my head. "Contact the members of Dumbledore's Army. You still have that fake Galleon, right, Hermoine?"

She nodded.

"And Harry, you can contact the members of the Order, can't you?"

Harry blinked. "They can't meet _here_, Emma--"

"Don't worry." I grinned. "I have the perfect place for a new headquarters."

* * *

3rd Person POV

Draco Malfoy was having a nightmare. Pansy could hear him turning restlessly in his bed through the paper-thin walls. She tip-toed out of her room, slowly opened his door.

"Draco?" In the dark room, it was hard to see much, but the dim light from the full moon provided slight visibility. The pale boy thrashed in the covers, his face scrunched in pain.

"Dray?"

He stilled, and for a moment she thought he was awake. "Emma..."

Pansy froze as the word ripped into her. _After everything that's happened, he's dreaming about _her_?_ Pansy only hoped that the nightmare was regarding the stupid Ravenclaw.

He let out a small cry. She approached the bed, prepared to wake him if the nightmare was bad enough. She reached out, lightly touched his arm. Suddenly, she found herself on her back, the breath knocked out of her. Draco was atop her, breathing heavily, his hands holding her wrists above his head. His silver eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and anger, and Pansy could see the barely-faded bruise on his jaw where Lucius had hit him.

"Draco, what's going--"

"It was you," he said, and the hurt in his voice thrust a spike into her heart. She truly loved him. Was it so wrong to want him to love her back? Her eyes widened. 'It was you'. _Does he know? Oh, Merlin, does he know it was me and not Knight? _

"You called me Dray."

She released her held breath. _He doesn't know._

"It wasn't..." His voice caught in his throat. "I thought it was her. I thought..."

Draco bent his head, shielding his eyes from her and effectively hiding the emotion that lay there. "Make me forget her," he pleaded. "I don't want to dream of her anymore."

He began to cry suddenly, and for the first time since Emma Knight had left, Pansy felt guilty. It was a feeling she was unused to, and she didn't like it. She didn't like the heaviness that now weighed on her mind. As Draco finished crying and moved away from her, falling asleep on the floor next to where he had pushed her, her heart beat in slow time with words she had always avoided saying: _I'm sorry._

But sorry wouldn't fix this, would it? It was too late for sorry. And it was all her fault.

* * *

While Emma was trying and failing to come up with an antidote to the permanence of her mother's invisibility potion, and while Harry and the others contacted members of the Order and the D.A., her mind turned to something she would rather not think of. Draco. Her brain kept replaying him walking out of his father's office, a set look on his face, a bruise on his jaw, looking shaken. She had heard the yelling at one point and connected the dots; not only had Lucius beat Draco, he had used the Cruciatus Curse as well. Just remembering it made her blood boil. No one should get away with that.

She wasn't being protective of Draco. She didn't care about him. She just hated Lucius. Yeah, that was it. She just hated Lucius.

A small voice in the back of her head whispered, _That's complete bullshit and you know it._

"Emma, you in here?" Harry wrapped his knuckles on her open door and looked around.

She sighed, knowing he wouldn't see her. "Yeah, I'm in here."

"Still invisible?"

"Obviously," she replied curtly.

He stiffened. "Right, sorry, dumb question."

She resisted the urge to sigh again and said, "It's okay, Harry. I didn't mean to snap at you. Where's George?"

"He's working."

_Right. The joke shop. I forgot._

He walked into the room slowly, afraid to run into her. His eyes raked over the potion ingredients spread out on her bed.

"Any progress on the antidote?"

She started to shake her head, then remembered he couldn't see her. "No."

"Emma..." He paused, rearranging the words in his head. "Maybe Hermoine's right."

_It wouldn't be the first time. _"About what?"

"A lot of things. One of the most important being, she thinks you're addicted to your potion-making."

Emma snorted, struggling not to laugh. "Seriously?"

Harry's expression was grim. "You've been trying to solve everything with potions, Em. The last two weeks, you've completely thrown yourself into it. It's not healthy."

"Says the boy who spent the last seven years of his life with a Voldemort obsession," said Emma dryly.

"Low blow, Emma."

She winced. "I know." _Being permanently invisible has made me grouchy._

"So what is it?"

"What's what?"

"What is it that's got you all worked up? It can't be the potion thing; you're usually less vocal when you're focused on potions."

Emma bit her lip, considering if she should tell him. _Oh hell. I've lied to them too much. They deserve some honesty. _"Remember when I told you about going back in time and how Lucius hit Dra--Malfoy?"

Harry's eyes narrowed at her almost-use of Draco's first name. "Yeah?"

"Well, I keep thinking about it. And it agitates me." _Not because I care about Draco. Because I just really hate Lucius._

Harry nodded shortly and said, "Hermoine was right."

"You said that already."

"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "She was right again. You still love Malfoy."

Emma's hands, which had been busily putting away the spread-out ingredients, stilled. "I absolutely do _not_--"

"Stop." He sighed. "Don't deny it, Em. I don't think any worse of you. The thing is...We all see it. Ginny, Hermoine, George..."

Her heart dropped. "George?"

"The only one who hasn't noticed yet is Ron, but that's to be expected, he can be so daft sometimes..."

"George knows..." She suddenly wanted to cry.

Apparently, it was evident in her voice, because Harry hastily said, "Em, don't cry. We understand, we--"

"This whole time?" she asked quietly. "This whole time, and he knew...?" _I've only been hurting him. I'm so _selfish_!_

"Em..." He opened his arms, and Emma flew into them, burying her head against his chest. "George knew when he asked you to be with him that you still cared for Malfoy. We all knew, we just didn't want to say anything. And..."

She sniffed. "And what?"

"And..." He sighed again. "And there's no way Malfoy's over you."

Emma froze in his arms. "What?"

"The way he looked at you at the Quidditch World Cup, Emma. He's not over you either."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I can't be with him," she said finally. "His father is..."

"I know what his father is," said Harry firmly. "That shouldn't matter."

"He thought I was cheating..."

"And you obviously weren't. Pansy's just a bitch."

"I can't do that to George, Harry. I just can't."

Harry thought carefully before speaking. "George wants you happy, Emma. And if he makes you happy, that's great. But if it's Malfoy who makes you happy, George would want you to be with Malfoy."

* * *

"Hermoine's a genius," said Ron proudly an hour later. The Trio and Emma were sitting in the living room of the Burrow. Hermoine, beside him, colored.

"No, I'm not," she replied humbly.

"Yes, you are," protested Harry. "Just accept the facts, 'moine."

"Why are you stating the obvious, Ron?" Emma frowned, twirling her wand absentmindedly in her fingers. "Or are you just bragging?"

"I'm not allowed to brag that my girlfriend's a bloody genius?" Ron's chest puffed up. Hermoine blushed more. "Anyway, Hermoine found a spell to make you visible again!"

Emma sprang up, throwing her arms around Hermoine, who looked quite flustered and caught off guard. "You're amazing!"

"See, you don't need another potion," said Hermoine after she had recovered from the shock.

"Yeah, yeah, I know how you feel about my so-called 'potion addiction'." Emma coughed to cover up her snort. "So, what's the spell??"

"Aparecium."

Emma's jaw dropped. "But...But...That's for invisible _ink_! I am not _ink_, Hermoine!"

Hermoine rolled her eyes. "It's the same basic concept--"

"It is _not_!"

"Would I use a spell on you if it wasn't safe?"

Emma sputtered for a solid minute before repeating, "I am not _ink_!"

"Okay, fine." Hermoine held up her hands in defeat. "I won't use the spell on you."

Emma let out a breath and said, "Thank _God_, Hermoine--"

"_Aparecium!_"

"Eep!"

Her skin began to burn and tingle. "Hermoine, if this kills me, it'll be on your--Ow!"

Hermoine's expression went from smug to worried. "What's wrong?"

"It's _burning_ me, damn it! I told you I wasn't ink--" _Ow ow ow ow_. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, the burning had stopped. She glared at Hermoine and said dangerously, "If you ever try that again--"

"Emma!" Hermoine nearly tackled her friend. "I can see you!"

"Told you she's a genius," said Ron.

"That _hurt_, 'moine!" Emma protested. "You owe me."

"I don't care; what do you want?"

"I want a kitten, damn it."

* * *

"You don't think Emma was actually serious about the kitten," said Hermoine worriedly to Harry the next day.

Harry laughed. "I don't know. I would usually say that she was just trying to be funny to lift the mood a little--it has been rather gloomy since she traveled back in time--but I honestly wouldn't put it past her to seriously want a kitten."

Hermoine thought on that for a moment. "I guess I do owe her. It was brilliant of her to remember that she owned a house."

Harry nodded, brushing the last of the cobwebs from the wall. He and the other two had spent the entire day cleaning Sterling Manor in anticipation for the first meeting of the Order and D.A. Emma, meanwhile, was trying to figure out who they could trust to be Secret-Keeper--it was a more difficult decision than one might imagine.

Ron popped his head into the foyer where Hermoine and Harry were. "When is everyone getting here?"

"They should be arriving soon." Hermoine smiled. "Did you fix the sofa?"

Ron winced. "Um...sure?"

Hermoine sighed and walked towards him. "Honestly, Ron, if you need help, just ask..."

Harry looked above him, lifted his wand. The dust vanished from the crystalline chandelier, leaving it sparkling. Normally, they wouldn't have bothered to clean headquarters; after all, Grimmald Place had been a mess. But it was Emma. This was her house. She deserved it clean. He turned to look at the stairs, making sure they'd gotten all the obvious spiderwebs and dust layers, and his eyes were drawn to the top. Emma smiled down at him.

"Sorry it took me so long," she said. She wore a navy blue dress with a pleated skirt. "I got distracted." She tugged on the dress to accentuate her point. "This was my mom's. She was really petite. All of her clothes fit me now."

Emma laughed shortly. "It's sad, isn't it? That I try on her old clothes."

"No," said Harry. "It's not sad at all."

She smiled a little. "I'm going to go change back. Let me know when people start to arrive. Oh," she paused, one hand on the rail, "and tell Hermoine that I want my kitten to be white."

* * *

The number of people gathered made Harry extremely thankful for the large, open space that was Sterling Manor's living room. He recognized most of them: Hestia Jones, Aberforth Dumbledore, Mrs. Figg, Fleur, Charlie, Bill, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. There were a few Aurors, whom he'd seen before, but their names escaped him. All in all, he found himself missing his godfather, Sirius, as well as Lupin and Tonks. The much-smaller Order of the Phoenix also reminded him of the loss of Dumbledore and Snape. Much had been lost in the fight against Voldemort.

As for Dumbledore's Army, it was strange for him to see his classmates; the last time he had seen many of them, it was during and immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. Cho Chang was among those who remained unchanged. She smiled at him slightly, her boyfriend Michael Corner standing beside her. Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom stood side by side, a fact that Harry found only slightly odd. It soon became clear, from the shy looks they gave each other, that their friendship had developed into something more.

Susan Bones, Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Seamus Finnigan...So many of Harry's old classmates and friends now filled Emma's home. He locked eyes with a dreamy-eyed Luna Lovegood, who positively beamed when she saw him. She gave him a wave, then went to speak with Neville, probably about Wrackspurts or Nargles.

He went over to where Hermoine stood in the hall and asked, "Where's Emma?"

"Upstairs." Hermoine's eyes drifted over the numerous witches and wizards. "How many do you think are here?"

"I'd say somewhere around twenty, maybe twenty five," he replied. "Why is she still upstairs? She needs to get down here so she can make a speech or something."

Hermoine gave him a look. "That's your job, Harry. They're all waiting for you to speak."

He shook his head. "Emma has to do it."

"Don't tell me you're still scared of crowds after all this time, Harry."

"I'm not scared!" protested Harry. "It's Emma's house, she has to pick the Secret-Keeper, _she_ can make the speech. It isn't me they need to believe this time; it's her."

* * *

Emma sat cross-legged on her old bedroom floor, the taped-together picture of her mother propped at eye level on the bed.

"I haven't talked to you in a while, I know," she said. She chuckled. "It's been years, actually. I don't think I've said anything to you since Dad got taken away."

She swallowed. "So, there's a lot I should fill you in on, and I promise I'll do it later. Right now...There are people downstairs, Mom. There is a huge group of witches and wizards in our living room because Lucius Malfoy wants to be the Voldemort's replacement. Yeah, Voldemort's dead. And here's the thing, Mom: I'm in love with Malfoy's son. You remember Malfoy, Dad's friend? He's not a good man. His son is...at risk of becoming exactly like him."

Memories rush into her head, reminding her of why she had decided to talk to her mother in the first place. She rubs at the dried tear streaks on her cheeks.

"I'm a Seer, like you. Oh, and I found your potions book, and I've been inventing new ones...My friends are worried about me, though. I spend too much time over a cauldron, they say. But I just...I want to be good at something. And I mean really _really_ good at something. I thought I'd found it when I found your book, but...That wasn't me, it was you. Your instructions, your ideas. The things I've made, I've made completely on accident." Emma laughed before continuing. "It's lucky I haven't blown myself up yet."

She laced her fingers together.

"So, anyway, back to me being a Seer. I get visions occasionally. I haven't had really big ones since I died and came back...It's a long story. Another time. Well, the thing is...I was trying on your clothes. Just to see if I could remember you. I'd just been born when you died, but I just wanted to see. And I had a vision."

Her smile dropped from her face. "Mom, did you ever kill anyone?"

The room was silent. She knows her mom wasn't going to answer.

"See, the visions I have...They always happen. Nothing I do changes the future. I had a vision about my friend Ron almost getting hit on the head by a pot that had fallen from a high shelf. In the vision, he was just sitting at the table, and this cat goes onto the counter behind him, looking like it's about to jump onto the shelf. And then he suddenly fidgeted a little, and the cat jumped, and the pots fell...and it misses him. So there was a morning when I saw the cat on the counter. I looked at Ron, and I was waiting for him to move. I figured, just to be safe, I'd tell him to move. And he did, and the plate fell, and it was just like my vision. So..."

She swallowed again as her voice caught in her throat.

"So...If I have a vision that I kill someone, that means...that means it's definitely going to happen, doesn't it?"

* * *

A/N: eh, it's a bit shorter than i intended, but hopefully it's dramatic enough!

**review.** pretty please and thank you! ^_^


	8. A Fast Turn of Events

A/N: sorry this took so long! school's been so busy! D:

* * *

A Fast Turn of Events

Emma hurried down the steps. Harry, upon seeing her, grinned in relief.

"Finally," he muttered as he led her quickly into the living room. "You took forever up there, what were you doing?"

"Reminiscing," she whispered back. "Sorry."

* * *

Emma cast a nervous glance at Harry, who stood off to the side. He smiled reassuringly, and she cleared her throat. A few heads in the room turned, but the rest were still chatting. She cleared her throat louder. Still, she had not gained everyone's full attention. Scowling, she placed her wand to her neck, murmured a spell, and yelled, "Oi!"

Her amplified voice boomed and echoed, and almost immediately, all talking ceased.

"Look," she said a little irritably, "I realize most of you don't know me. I'm not going to impress you with a well-worded speech, mostly because I didn't prepare one and I'm horrible at impromptu speaking."

The crowd tittered. She wasn't trying to be funny, but okay, that works.

"I'm going to start by saying this: If you aren't willing to sacrifice your life, leave."

She waited. No one moved.

"If you aren't willing to break a few Ministry rules, leave."

Again, she waited, and again, no one moved. They sat, captivated. She nodded curtly after a while.

"Alright," she continued. "First, as you're all aware, we need a Secret-Keeper." Emma smiled. "I've chosen someone who can, without a doubt, be trusted. Luna Lovegood, please step forward."

* * *

"Draco, come here."

Draco walked slowly, trudging to his father's office. It had become, lately, a room distinctly lacking pleasant memories.

"Close the door."

Hesitantly, Draco did has his father had ordered. Lucius sat at his desk, fingers laced together in front of him.

"Have you contacted Miss Knight yet?"

Bile rose in Draco's throat as he thought of what he was supposed to do. "Not yet, Father."

Lucius scowled and said, "Don't lag, Draco, I need her on my side before I even think of attacking the Ministry."

"Even if I manage to get her here," said Draco through clenched teeth, "she won't help you. She'll die before she helps you."

"That, my son," Lucius replied with an evil smirk, "is partly what I am counting on."

* * *

"They didn't believe you," said Hermoine sadly.

"We figured as much." Harry didn't sound happy either.

"Luna believed me," said Emma. She picked absently at an invisible piece of lint on her shirt. "So did the rest of the D.A. The Order has a little bit of a hard time believing that Lucius is capable of anything, especially since he helped Harry. It's understandable. Lucius is too much of a pansy."

"It doesn't help that all the people who _would_ have believed us are dead," Ron grumbled.

"Maybe it's just better if I went after Lucius alone," Emma suggested.

"_NO!_" was the furious response from all three. Emma winced involuntarily.

"I can't risk putting you guys in danger--"

"_NO!_" Harry and Ron repeated.

"We didn't let Harry go after You--Voldemort alone," said Hermoine, trying to be brave with the name now that the Dark wizard was gone, "and he was a much fiercer opponent than Malfoy. We're not letting you go alone."

Warmth surged through Emma's body. "You know I love you guys, right?"

Hermoine smiled. "We know."

* * *

Emma's POV

"So, Emma," said Ron, trying to be nonchalant.

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry and Hermoine had left, but evidently Ron had something he wanted to talk to me about.

"Why did you fall in love with Malfoy?"

I froze, my back to him. Why the hell would he ask me that?!

* * *

Draco's POV

"What do you want, Pansy?" I asked, clenching my fists. So far I had had no success in figuring out my father's actual plan. Did he want Emma alive or dead? Did he want her for her visions or to use her as a hostage to keep Potter from doing anything?

"Are you still dreaming of her?"

"Yes." My response was harsh, curt. She knew damn well I still dreamed of Emma. "Is there a point to this?"

"I was just wondering, Draco," Pansy began, shifting from foot to foot. She was uncomfortable. Good. "I was wondering why you fell in love with her."

* * *

Emma's POV

"If you don't want to answer, that's fine," Ron said hurriedly. "I didn't mean to--"

"It was his eyes," I said, interrupting his apology. "At first, anyway. His eyes."

* * *

Draco's POV

"Her eyes," I said stiffly. "It was her eyes."

* * *

Emma's POV

"Then he changed, little by little. He wasn't a jerk anymore. He was romantic, witty, clever, sweet..."

* * *

Draco's POV

"She wasn't what most people thought. She was a mass of contradictions. She wasn't quiet, but wasn't outgoing. She wasn't shy, per se, but she was awkward. She was never very feminine or graceful, but she didn't want to be..."

* * *

Emma's POV

"_Sweet_?" repeated Ron.

"Sounds impossible, I know. Don't try picturing him as sweet, your head will just explode."

"I'm sorry he hurt you," said Ron softly. There was a click as he left and closed the door behind him.

I waited a bit. "I'm sorry I'm hurting your brother."

* * *

Draco's POV

Pansy was quiet for a long time. "I'll see if there's something to help you. I'm sorry she's hurt you." Then she was gone, and I stared at the spot where she'd been.

This wasn't easy for Pansy. I knew how she felt about me.

"I'm sorry I'm hurting you."

* * *

Emma's POV

"I love you guys," I whispered again that night. "But this isn't something you should have to do."

Regardless of his planned attack on the Ministry, the fact remained: Lucius was mine to take down. No one else's. He was my responsibility.

That was the direction my thoughts had turned when I snuck out of the Burrow on a potential suicide mission to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

It was a simple enough matter to Apparate onto Malfoy's property. What wasn't very simple was the nearly unbearable pain in my chest as I was confronted not with the older, spawn-of-the-devil Malfoy, but the younger Malfoy. He blinked in surprise as I suddenly appeared in his living room, sitting lazily in an overstuffed armchair.

He opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it with a scowl. "I thought I told you to leave."

It was such a ridiculous remark after everything that happened that I almost laughed. His eyes had a faraway look I'd never seen on him, almost as if he weren't really seeing me. It reminded me of how, only recently, I had been invisible. I didn't say anything, curious to see if he would simply pretend I wasn't there. That would make matters much simpler.

"Pansy said the potion would help me," he continued darkly. "That bloody liar."

Anger flared in me. If Pansy was still here, it wouldn't hurt to drop by. I cackled evilly in my head.

"She said I wouldn't dream of you anymore. Bloody _liar_."

My heart stuttered painfully. _He dreams of me?_ The vision I'd had in Sterling Manor returned with a vengeance and panic settled in my brain.

_I have to get away from him. I can't be anywhere near him. I won't. I _won't_. I have to change the future._

Draco put his head in his hands. "Go away."

He thought I was a dream, come to torment him. Treading softly, I did as he said: I went away.

* * *

3rd Person POV

"ARGH!"

Hermoine bolted upright in bed, shocked. That sounded like... "Harry?" She slipped on her robe and rushed out her bedroom door. Harry was in Emma's room. Correction: Emma's _empty_ room.

He was livid as he shouted, "That _idiot_! That absolute bloody _idiot_!"

"What is it, what's going on? Where's Emma?"

"I'll tell you where she is!" he roared. "She's gone off to Malfoy Manor!"

"How do you know that?"

"She's gone, 'moine! Where the hell _else_ would she go?!" He stormed out of her room.

"Harry!" Hermoine called after him. "Where are you going?"

"To wake Ron. That git can sleep through anything, I swear--Then I'm going to get Emma before she does something stupider."

"Harry, wait--" She lifted her hand to stop him, then sighed. "I'll get George and Luna, then, I suppose."

* * *

Emma's POV

Lucius stood in front of me in the main hall, grinning, and it looked like he was expecting me.

"Long time no see, Emma," he said cheerily.

"Long time no see, bastard," I mocked.

"Witty, my dear." He chuckled.

_What's put _him _in such a good mood?_

"I have a proposition for you."

I snorted. "Like I care. Just draw your wand so I can hex you into freaking oblivion."

"Can't we be pleasant? I'm trying to act civilly, Emma." He smiled, but it was suspiciously similar to a sneer. I tensed. "Just listen to what I have to say."

"Whatever you have to say, I'm sure I couldn't care less," I snapped fiercely. "The only reason I'm here is to get you to call off your little attack on the Ministry."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Malfoy, it doesn't suit you."

"It seems you're as clever as Draco claims," said Malfoy slowly. The darkened house gave his face an eerie look. "I believe I doubted him." He paused. "But I don't think you'll stop me, Emma."

"Why not?" I said, snarling.

"You seem to have come alone." He chuckled again. "A rookie mistake, really. Did you learn nothing from Potter's excursions? He always had those insufferable friends of his..."

"If I remember correctly, Malfoy," I hissed, pointing my wand at him, "Harry was alone when he defeated Voldemort."

This brought Malfoy's laughter forth. "Precious, just precious! The boy wasn't _alone_! He had every witch and wizard in that damned Great Hall on his side! He had the Longbottom boy who killed the Dark Lord's final Horcrux! He was never _alone_, Knight! The one instance in which he _was _alone was the instance in which he died!"

"Harry didn't die--"

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" A grin played on Lucius's face. "The entire wizarding community knows of it. Voldemort's Killing Curse hit it's target. For a time, Harry was very much dead."

_Then he...Why didn't he tell me? He knows about _my _death!_

"Liar."

"I'm not always the conniving bad guy, Knight," said Malfoy. "Some of the things I say are in fact the truth. It would be tiring to lie _all _the time."

* * *

3rd Person POV

"Where is she?!"

"Harry--"

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

"Harry, stop!"

Hermoine grabbed his sleeve, while Ron attempted to pull the Boy-Who-Lived away from the limp, unresisting Malfoy. Harry was growling, while Draco merely stared with an incredulous expression.

"Where is she?!" Harry screamed at him again as Ron finally managed to extract him away from Draco, who's lip was now split and swollen from Harry's fist.

"I don't know," said Malfoy, his voice shaking. "I haven't seen her."

"LIAR!"

"Harry," Hermoine begged. "Calm down, please!"

"He hurt her, 'moine!" Harry yelled. "He crushed her and he doesn't even _care_! We have to find her before Lucius gets her! If he spells so much as her fingernail, I swear to Merlin, I'll kill him!"

Ron and George towed him away, towards the main part of Malfoy Manor. Draco stared meekly after them, the shock of it wearing off as Harry's voice echoed again, "I'll kill him!"

After hesitating just a moment, his mind in a tailspin, Draco chased after them.

* * *

Emma's POV

"I'm afraid you can't hope to stop me alone," said Malfoy with a cheeky grin. "There's too many on my side."

I didn't say anything, my mind sifting through the possible curses I could use on him.

"Why don't you join me?"

I stiffened at those words. "_What_?"

"Join me," Malfoy repeated. "Be on the winning side for once, Knight."

"_Never_," I said without hesitation.

He looked about to ask again, and then said, "I figured that would be your answer. Draco isn't going to partake in my plan; I can't count on him to help me with you. I suppose I have no choice but to get rid of you."

He drew his wand. Expecting a fight, I yelled, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Lucius flung the spell away with ease and countered with a spell I couldn't hear. Unable to block, my vision went black. I could hear him laughing, I could hear him leave, but I couldn't see anything.

* * *

3rd Person POV

"Get back here!" Draco roared, common sense having returned. He couldn't let them ruin his father's plan.

They kept running, though Harry turned and threw a curse Draco's way. He blocked it and kept after them. Luna, who was being dragged by Hermoine, had a slightly out-there expression on her face.

"Why don't you just duel him, Harry?" she suggested.

"I have to find Emma--"

"I'll look for her!" Hermoine burst out. "Luna and I will go, you three stay here and deal with Malfoy!"

They broke apart into two groups, Harry, Ron, and George dashing towards the Malfoy's large dining room. Draco, predictably, followed Harry, and Luna and Hermoine flew through the double doors that lead to the main hallway. There Emma sat on the floor, her eyes disturbingly dim, stumbling around as if she were...

Hermoine gasped. Luna looked at Emma and said, "I do believe she's blind, Hermoine."

* * *

"Get back here and fight!"shouted Draco again.

Harry turned, his face fierce, prepared to do just that, when George put his arm out, halting him.

"No," said George, a set look on his face. "I'm doing it."

"But George--"

"Don't argue, Harry. You're my second, but I have to do this."

* * *

A/N: gaaah it's so short. but i had to get this out so you all wouldn't hate me for not updating in forever. i'm sorry!

**review!**


	9. Breathe 2 AM

A/N: omggg this took so long! D: sorry! SINCEREST APOLOGIES!

* * *

3rd Person POV

"Oh, Merlin, Emma!" Hermoine rushed over to the fallen girl, kneeling by her side. "Are you alright? Merlin, your eyes--!"

"What's wrong with my eyes?" Emma asked. Her hands flitted up to her face, where her solid green eyes were beginning to mist over as a result of her blindness. "Besides the whole I-can't-see thing."

"Don't make jokes, Em!" scolded Hermoine, her hair twice as bushy as normal, face white with panic. "Hold still, I'll, I'll, I'll have this fixed in a jiff!"

Emma's expression suddenly brightened, and she flailed out, eventually finding Hermoine's wand hand and gripping it tightly. "No, don't."

"What are you talking about, you're _blind_--"

"Don't fix my sight." She smiled suddenly, laughing with joy. Hermoine stared at her like she had gone insane. "If I can't see, I can't kill anyone!"

"What are you _talking_ about--" Hermoine asked, flustered. She looked over her shoulder at Luna helplessly. Luna smiled and waved, unfocused.

"I had a vision, Hermoine," said Emma in an earnest voice, trying to make her understand. "I was killing someone, I can't remember who. But that's not important: If I can't _see_, my vision won't come true!"

Hermoine's face was invaded with sadness. "Em, I wish this wasn't true but you know as well as I that your visions always--"

The smile on her face vanished as she said, "No, 'moine. Just, no. Let me have this one. Agree with me. Tell me it's not true. Tell me I can avoid it. Please. _Please_."

There was a loud explosion, and the crystal chandelier above their heads shook. Hermoine looked at Luna again, who was still smiling pleasantly.

"Sounds like Malfoy caught up with George," she said.

Emma immediately stiffened. "Malfoy's fighting George?" She scrambled to her feet, stumbling unsteadily. "Luna! Can you help me?"

"But, Emma--" Hermoine protested. "What about Lucius?"

"Don't go after him. He's too strong right now, we need backup."

Hermoine looked conflicted, then pushed Emma gently towards Luna and said, "I'm going after him."

"Hermoine, no!" Unable to see, Emma tried in vain to go after her best friend. "Don't!"

Luna seemed confused. "Where is Hermoine going?"

"Follow her!" Emma snapped desperately.

"But you're blind--"

"Go!"

Without another word, Luna left and Emma was once again alone.

* * *

Emma's POV

I curled in on myself, defenseless, useless. Damn it! If Hermoine was successful in finding Lucius, he'd kill her! She was smart, but she wasn't good under pressure--She'd break, and Lucius wasn't a Hogwarts student or a naive Death Eater. He'd take advantage, use dirty tricks, unleash spells even she had never heard of. Luna wouldn't be able to protect her. They'd both die.

_And it's all my fault._

George and Draco...They'd hex each other into oblivion if someone didn't stop them. And if Harry and Ron were anywhere near, they sure as hell wouldn't stop anything. They'd help.

This whole thing was a mess. Nothing was how I'd hoped. Why did everything have to get so complicated? This was chaos.

I needed my sight back. And I needed it back now.

_But if you get it back, _said a small voice, _someone is going to die. You're going to kill someone._

I choked back a sob, cradling my head in my hands. I heard footsteps and looked up, trying to blink away the black on impulse. "Hello?"

A sneer. I could practically hear it. "Well, well, Knight. How the mighty have fallen."

"Blaise." To my own surprise, I was strangely relieved. "Oh, thank God. Blaise!"

"Yes, it's me." He paused, walking towards me. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"I'm blind," I said, breathless.

"You're _blind_? How--"

"That's not important," I interrupted hastily. "I need you to be my eyes."

* * *

Draco's POV

The Weasley was, I'll admit, a decent dueler. One of his hexes caught my left arm and it went numb, hanging limply at my side. I'd stopped trying to recognize the curses and put all my energy into not getting hit by them. Potter and the younger Weasley stood off to the side, probably waiting for George to give them the signal to all gang up on me. Bloody Gryffindors.

* * *

3rd Person POV

Blaise's grip on Emma's arm tightened as he pulled her hastily through the hallways of Malfoy Manor.

"The explosion came from the dining room," Blaise explained. "I'll take you there, but I don't like this personal bodyguard business, Knight."

"I can defend myself," Emma said bitterly.

He snorted, but added nothing except for a murmured, "I doubt that."

She ignored him, gritting her teeth, and trusting him not to lead her off a cliff. He towed her through into another hallway and stopped abruptly.

"Blaise?" she asked. "What's going on? Why are we stopped?"

"Parkinson," growled Blaise.

Pansy eyed them warily as Emma scowled.

"The cockroach is here?" Emma fumbled for her wand, then aimed it in front of her. "Tell me which direction and I'll turn her into one."

The Slytherin girl looked afraid. "Don't--"

Suddenly, Emma lost it. She launched herself in the direction of Pansy's voice, abandoning her wand. Pansy struggled, pulling on Emma's hair, but Emma skipped right over the girly ways of fighting and punched Pansy solidly in the nose. Pansy made a gurgling sound, then hooked her fingers into claws and scratched at the other girl. Blaise watched in shock as, despite her lack of vision, Emma's fist easily connected again and again. Finally, content with the destruction of Pansy's face, she yanked backwards on Pansy's short mop of black hair and hissed, "Blaise, go back."

He blinked, astonished at her audacity. "What?"

"Hermoine and Luna Lovegood went after Lucius. I don't need you here anymore."

He laughed loudly and said, "And you want me to go after them? What am I, your house elf?"

Her head whipped around, sightless eyes narrowing, but unable to focus. Then, suddenly, her expression softened. "Blaise, please?"

The dark-skinned boy glared at her for a moment, before saying, "Fine. You owe me, Knight."

Emma reached beside her for her wand, keeping her hold on Pansy. Her hand searched and finally found it, and she grinned in triumph.

"Now," she said, "I'm going to say this once. You're going to take me to the dining room, and explain to Draco the bitch that you are."

Pansy's eyes widened comically, though Emma couldn't see. "W-What?"

"I know what you did, Cockroach." Emma's grip tightened. "I know it's your fault that Draco kicked me out."

Pansy became suddenly extremely focused on the wand. "Wait, what are you going to do? Don't hurt me, please, don't hurt me--"

_She's pathetic, _Emma thought. _So utterly pathetic._

"I ought to kill you, Parkinson!" she yelled furiously.

Pansy whimpered, sobbing like a baby.

"I ought to kill you!"

* * *

Draco stumbled against the wall, trying to duck another of George's curses. Luna entered the doorway, looking confused, and Harry rushed to her.

"Where's Hermoine?" he demanded quickly.

Luna blinked. "I don't know. I'm trying to find her."

He searched her eyes, his hair messier than usual and clinging to his forehead with sweat. "What do you mean trying to find her?"

"She ran off. Mr. Malfoy got away. Emma's blind," Luna rattled off the facts distractedly. She peeked over Harry's shoulder. "How is George doing?"

A pale-faced Ron looked to the middle of the dining room. Glasses shattered as Draco and George exchanged heated spells.

"Fine," said Ron weakly. "Holding his own. I think."

* * *

Pansy walked in first, Emma keeping a firm grip on her shoulder, sometimes holding on so hard that it hurt. Pansy held back tears and cleared her throat. Emma lifted her wand, head held high and dim, unseeing eyes unblinking, and she yelled, "_Finite Incantem_!"

The duel ceased and everyone looked to her in astonishment.

"Pansy has something to tell us." She yanked on Pansy's hair. "Don't you, Cockroach?"

"Draco, it was me you saw kissing Blaise, not Knight," Pansy said in a rush. "I was trying to break you two up so I used Polyjuice Potion."

Emma dropped her and Pansy whimpered. "We're done here. Let's go. We've got to catch up to Lucius before he hurts Hermoine--"

"We are most certainly _not_ done here." Draco was breathing heavily from the duel. He blinked away his shock. "Merlin, Knight, what happened to your eyes?"

"Your father blinded me," she said curtly. "Harry, if you're in here, get Ron and George and let's _go_."

"Knight, wait. If it was Pansy, then--"

"You dumped me for nothing." Her voice was cold.

"Don't you get mad at me." He lifted a shaking finger. "_I _should be the mad one. Apparently, that Weasley boy knows more about you than I do."

"He does." Emma's voice was starting to tremble. George took half a step towards her; he knew the warning signs of a breakdown. This whole night had been too messed up--she was starting to fall apart.

"Like what? What does he know that I don't?" asked Draco impishly.

Something in her expression flashed angrily. "Is now really the time when you want to bring this up, Malfoy?"

He nodded. "When else would I ask, Knight?"

"Fine." Her fists clenched at her sides. "Let's start off here: I am half-dead, Rowena Ravenclaw's descendant and reincarnation; in September I leave for three years for the Auror Training Academy."

Draco openly gaped. "I didn't know you wanted to be an Auror. And what do you mean half--"

"I had a conversation with a dementor," she interrupted. "My mother left a journal of potions, oh, and she also happened to transfer all her powers into me when she died giving birth to me. I am part of The Four, the reincarnations of the founders of Hogwarts."

"When she says it like that, you forget all the things that are wrong with her," Ron muttered.

"I think she left out the suicidal stuff on purpose," Harry replied quietly.

"Then there's the basics you never bothered to know," she said. "I have an obsession with potions, my preferred position in Quidditch is Beater, my favorite song is by a Muggle artist named Anna Nalick--"

Draco straightened his back and interrupted, "It's called 'Breathe 2 A.M."

Everyone in the room froze. Did Draco Malfoy just know the name of a _Muggle _song?

"Your favorite color is blue, but you like the way you look in green better," he continued. "You've never been a fan of the Holyhead Harpies and are loyal to an American team called the Sweetwater All-Stars. You like your coffee with french vanilla creamer and no sugar, and you like reading romantic poetry at late hours. Swans remind you of your mother, and snow makes you cry."

Emma stood completely still, stunned. Draco's volume raised slightly. "Those big things, those secrets that I never knew? How could you possibly expect me to know them, Knight? I noticed everything you did, everything you said, but how the bloody hell do you expect me to know that you talked to a dementor if you never _told me_?"

She placed a hand over her mouth and bit down on her finger, determined not to cry, not this time. George approached her then, putting his hand on her back, and then she did cry. He resisted the urge to pull her into a hug, and instead nudged her towards Draco. She tripped, and the fair-haired boy caught her with a surprised expression. He looked over the top of her head at George, who said only four words.

"Take care of her."

Then he pulled on Ron's arm, and the three boys, followed by Luna, left the room. Draco looked down at Emma, her unfocused eyes making her look lost in his arms. In his arms. _Merlin_. He held her close, inhaling her scent, and she cried against his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair.

"Draco," she said.

"Yes?"

"Fix my eyesight, will you? I want to kill Parkinson."

As Pansy, lying on the floor, let out another frightened whimper, Draco threw back his head and laughed.

* * *

The group burst through two large double doors, looking around wildly.

"Hermoine!" Ron ran to her. She stood just in the doorway, grinning widely.

"Oh, Ron, look!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

In the middle of the room, which looked like a large ballroom of sorts, was Lucius. And all surrounding Lucius, you ask? The members of the Order, Dumbledore's Army...and Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic.

* * *

A/N: The End.

yeah, you heard me correctly.

it's finished. i feel so relieved, haha. phew. now if only you would all review. i want some feedback now that the whole thing is completed!!


	10. Epilogue Because I Felt Guilty

A/N: I decided that I didn't have enough mushy Draco-Emma goodness in the final chapter!

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood on the platform at King's Cross Station, seeing off his only son, Scorpius. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Trio; Harry and his wife, Weasley and Granger, now married, their kids.

"You should be over there," he said, "with them."

He wasn't talking to his son--he was speaking to his wife. Emma Malfoy smiled. "We work with Ron, remember? I see him and the kids all the time. You know, they named me godmother of little Rose and Hugo."

Age had done her wonders. There was an ever-present blush on her heart-shaped face, and her green eyes, the eyes he loved so much, were brighter than ever. Her hair was again long and golden--she had done away with the black streaks before the birth of their first child.

"Does that make me godfather?" A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His own hair was short and, though he had gelled it in place that morning as they left, Emma had found a way to muss it to her liking. She had also told him that, as years passed, his eyes became more silver than grey.

She laughed, a glorious sound for him to hear. "I don't think they'd allow that."

"You're right. They still dislike me." Draco sighed. "I think I'm getting on Potter's good side, though. He smiled at me at work the other day."

"He's probably trying to be friendly for my sake," she teased. "I did tell you two to get along. Aurors shouldn't be having such petty arguments. Especially partners."

"He's _Ron's_ partner, Emma. We're not--" He stopped and groaned. "Darling, you didn't."

Her eyes twinkled mysteriously. "Oh, _Draco_, of course I wouldn't dare switch partners with Ron. Whether I did or not, you two were eventually going to have to learn to get along. That, and I think the Head of the Auror Department was getting a little wary of the husband-wife Auror team."

"Does Potter know yet?"

She shook her head, shifting her baby girl to her other arm. "You're going to have to start calling him Harry soon, Draco. As for him, he'll find out on your next mission, I'm sure." Emma chuckled evilly.

"You should have been in Slytherin," replied Draco with a warm smile. "Must I be _friendly_, though? Can't I just be civil? Or mute, does mute work?"

She laughed again. "Draco. Harry might very well be your boss in the future. Unless you have a desire to be head of the department someday?"

"Merlin, no." Draco winced. "Alright, I see your point."

"Mum?" asked Scorpius suddenly, looking up at his mother with his father's eyes.

"Yes, love?"

Scorpius's eyes trailed to Rose Weasley, who was grinning up at her parents. "What House will I be in?"

"You had better be in bloody Slytherin," Draco muttered under his breath.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to him, sweetie. Your House doesn't matter to us."

"We're allowed to talk to people from other Houses, right?" Scorpius nearly smiled as Rose stuck her tongue out at her brother and skipped away.

A knowing grin spread across his mother's face. "Of course."

Draco followed his son's gaze. "If you marry a Weasley, Scorpius--"

She gave him a stern look and interrupted, "We will be positively thrilled."

Scorpius flushed. Emma placed a kiss on her husband's cheek, and murmured, "Harry's looking this way. Acknowledge him at least."

"Must I?" he asked from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes."

Draco turned his head and held Harry Potter's gaze. Draco nodded; Harry smiled slightly, then turned his attention back to his kids.

"Happy?" Draco grumbled at his wife.

Emma smiled, and took his hand, holding her youngest child close. Her daughter, standing beside her mother, turned her head, looking at the group on the other end of the platform. She smiled and giggled as Hermoine, Ron, and Harry turned. She lifted a little hand, waved.

Grinning, the Trio waved back. Six year-old Madeline Malfoy pointed a finger in the air separating the families, her green eyes shining. A bright silver and gold firework exploded, causing children all around to squeal and laugh. Draco raised his eyebrow.

Laughing, Emma raised her hand like a sheepish student in trouble. "I admit it. I taught her."

Scorpius boarded the train, giving one last look at his parents and two smaller siblings.

"Give our love to Headmistress Lovegood," Emma called.

Scorpius rolled his eyes in a Draco-like fashion. "Mum, I can't give love to the _Headmistress_."

As Emma and Draco watched the train depart, Emma looked lovingly at her two children. Little Nyx, with her father's hair and mother's eyes, was asleep on Emma's shoulder. Madeline, a clone of Emma herself, played absently with her grandmother's necklace. Her fingers passed over the crack in the charm.

Draco squeezed Emma's hand as they walked away, her emerald ring gleaming.

"Have you heard anything from your father?" she asked, still smiling as she very well knew the answer.

"Sly thing, you know as well as I he's still in Azkaban," Draco murmured against the skin of her neck. "And let him bloody well stay there."

"And your mother? How's Narcissa?"

Draco sighed. "Lonely. She expressed a wish that I bring you next time I go for tea."

"Did you tell her I detest tea?" Emma's smile softened.

"In those exact words, darling. You know how she is."

She didn't respond, kissing him instead. When they separated, Draco whispered three words in her ear.

"I love you," he said.

Emma giggled, feeling sixteen again. "I love you, too."

* * *

A/N: aww so sweet.

The End. and I mean it this time.

:] thanks to all of my readers. love you all.


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